CEOROE  CISSING 


i. 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 


THE 

PAYING  GUEST 


BY 

GEORGE  GISSING 


♦=^«f'fer*> 


NEW    YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  &   COMPANY 

1895 


Copyright,  tSgs,  bv 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


THE  GUARANTEE  PRESS 
NEW  YORK 


P19 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 


CHAPTER  I. 

It  was  Mumford  who  saw  the  ad- 
vertisement, and  made  the  sugges- 
tion. His  wife  gave  him  a  startled 
look, 

'  'But — you  don't  mean  that  it's  nec- 
essary ?     Have  we  been  extra " 

"No,  no!  Nothing  of  the  kind. 
It  just  occurred  to  me  that  some 
such  arrangement  might  be  pleasant 
for  you.  You  must  feel  lonely,  now 
and  then,  darling,  during  the  day. 
And  as  we  have  plenty  of  room " 

Emmeline  took  the  matter  serious- 
ly, but,  being  a  young  woman  of 
some   discretion,    did   not   voice   all 


£NaiSii 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

her  thoughts.  The  rent  was  heavy ; 
so  was  the  cost  of  Clarence's  season 
ticket.  Against  this  they  had  set 
the  advantage  of  the  fine  air  of  Sut- 
ton, so  good  for  the  child  and  for 
the  mother,  both  vastly  better  in 
health  since  they  quitted  London. 
Moreover,  the  remoteness  of  their 
friends  favoured  economy ;  they  could 
easily  decline  invitations,  and  need 
not  often  issue  them.  They  had  a 
valid  excuse  for  avoiding  public  en- 
tertainments— an  expense  so  often 
imposed  by  mere  fashion.  The 
house  was  roomy,  the  garden  delight- 
ful. Clarence,  good  fellow,  might 
be  sincere  in  his  wish  for  her  to  have 
companionship;  at  the  same  time, 
this  advertisement  had  probably 
appealed  to  him  in  another  way. 

"A  YOUNG  LADY  desircs  to  find  a 
home  with  respectable,  well-con- 
nected family,  in  a  suburb  of  Lon- 
don, or  not  more  than  15  miles  from 
Charing  X.  Can  give  excellent  ref- 
erences.      Terms  not  so  much  a  con- 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

sideration  as  comfort  and  pleasant 
society.  No  boarding  house.  Ad- 
dress, Louise,  Messrs.  Higgins&  Co., 
Fenchurch  St.,  E.  C." 

She  read  it  again  and  again. 

"It  wouldn't  be  nice  if  people  said 
that  we  were  taking  lodgers.  " 

"No  fear  of  that.  This  is  evi- 
dently some  well-to-do  person.  It's 
a  very  common  arrangement  nowa- 
days, you  know;  they  are  called 
'paying  guests.'  Of  course  I 
shouldn't  dream  of  having  any  one 
you  didn't  thoroughly  like  the  look 
of." 

"Do  you  think,"  asked  Emmeline, 
doubtfully,  "that  we  should  quite  do? 
'Well-connected  family '  " 

"My  dear  girl!  Surely  we  have 
nothing  to  be  ashamed  of. " 

"Of  course  not,  Clarence.  But — 
and  pleasant  society  ?    What  of  that  ? ' ' 

"Your  society  is  pleasant  enough, 
I  hope,"  answered  Mumford,  grace- 
fully.    "And  the  Fentimans " 

This   was   the    only   family    with 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

whom  they  were  intimate  at  Sutton ; 
a  trifle  sober,  perhaps,  and  not  in 
conspicuously  flourishing  circum- 
stances; but  perfectly  presentable. 

"I'm  afraid,"  murmured  Emme- 
line,  and  stopped  short.  "As  you 
say,"  she  added  presently,  "this  is 
some  one  very  well  off.  'Terms  not 
so  much  a  consideration '  " 

"Well,  I  tell  you  what.  There 
can  be  no  harm  in  dropping  a  note. 
The  kind  of  note  that  commits  one 
to  nothing,  you  know.  Shall  I  write 
it?     Or  would  you?" 

They  concocted  it  together,  and 
the  rough  draught  was  copied  by 
Emmeline.  She  wrote  a  very  pretty 
hand,  and  had  no  difficulty  whatever 
about  punctuation.  A  careful  letter, 
calculated  for  the  eye  of  refinement; 
it  supplied  only  the  indispensable 
details  of  the  writer's  position,  and 
left  terms  for  future  adjustment. 

"  It's  so  easy  to  explain  to  people, ' ' 
said  Mumford,  with  an  air  of  satis- 
faction, when  he  came  back  from  the 

lO 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

post,  "that  you  wanted  a  companion, 
as  I'm  quite  sure  you  do.  A  friend 
coming  to  stay  with  you  for  a  time 
— that's  how  I  should  put  it." 

A  week  passed,  and  there  came  no 
reply.  Mumford  pretended  not  to 
care  much,  but  Emmeline  imagined 
a  new  anxiety  in  his  look. 

"Do  be  frank  with  me,  dear,"  she 
urged  one  evening.  "Are  we  living 
too " 

He  answered  her  with  entire  truth- 
fulness. Ground  for  serious  uneasi- 
ness there  was  none  whatever;  he 
could  more  than  make  ends  meet, 
and  had  every  reason  to  hope  it 
would  always  be  so;  but  it  would  re- 
lieve his  mind  if  the  end  of  the  year 
saw  a  rather  larger  surplus.  He 
was  now  five  and  thirty — getting  on 
in  life.  A  man  ought  to  make  pro- 
vision, beyond  the  mere  life  assur- 
ance— and  so  on. 

"Shall  I  look  out  for  other  adver- 
tisements?" asked  Emmeline. 

"Oh,     dear,     no.        It    was    just 

11 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

that  particular  one  that  caught  my 
eye." 

Next  morning  arrived  a  letter, 
signed  "Louise  Derrick."  The 
writer  said  she  had  been  waiting  to 
compare  and  think  over  some  two 
hundred  answers  to  her  advertise- 
ment. "It'sreally  too  absurd.  How 
can  I  remember  them  all?  But  I 
liked  yours  as  soon  as  I  read  it,  and 
I  am  writing  to  you  first  of  all.  Will 
you  let  me  come  and  see  you?  I 
can  tell  you  about  myself  much  better 
than  writing.  Would  to-morrow  do, 
in  the  afternoon  ?  Please  telegraph 
yes  or  no  to  Coburg  Lodge,  Emilia 
Road,  Tulse  Hill." 

To  think  over  this  letter,  Mumford 
missed  his  ordinary  train.  It  was 
not  exactly  the  kind  of  letter  he  had 
expected,  and  Emmeline  shared  his 
doubts.  The  handwriting  seemed 
just  passable;  there  was  no  ortho- 
graphic error;  but  —  refinement? 
This  young  person  wrote,  too,  with 
such  singular  nonchalance.     And  she 

12 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

said  absolutely  nothing  about  her 
domestic  circumstances.  Coburg 
Lodge,  Tulse  Hill.  A  decent  enough 
locality,  doubtless;  but 

"There's  no  harm  in  seeing  her," 
said  Emmeline,  at  length.  "Send  a 
telegram,  Clarence.  Do  you  know, 
I  think  she  may  be  the  right  kind  of 
girl.  I  was  thinking  of  some  one 
awfully  grand.  It's  rather  a  relief. 
After  all,  you  see,  you — you  are  in 
business " 

"To  be  sure.  And  this  girl  seems 
to  belong  to  a  business  family.  I 
only  wish  she  wrote  in  a  more  lady- 
like way." 

Emmeline  set  her  house  in  order; 
filled  the  drawing-room  with  flowers; 
made  the  spare  bedroom  as  inviting 
as  possible;  after  luncheon,  spent  a 
good  deal  of  time  in  adorning  her 
person.  She  was  a  slight,  pretty 
woman  of  something  less  than  thirty; 
with  a  good,  but  pale,  complexion, 
hair  tending  to  auburn,  sincere  eyes. 
Her  little  vanities  had  no  root  of  ill- 


^? 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

nature;  she  could  admire  without 
envy,  and  loved  an  orderly,  domestic 
life.  Her  husband's  desire  to  in- 
crease his  income  had  rather  unset- 
tled her;  she  exaggerated  the  im- 
portance of  to-day's  interview,  and 
resolved  with  nervous  energy  to 
bring  it  to  a  successful  issue,  if  Miss 
Derrick  should  prove  a  possible  com- 
panion. 

About  four  o'clock  sounded  the 
visitor's  ring.  From  her  bedroom 
window  Emmeline  had  seen  Miss 
Derrick's  approach;  as  the  distance 
from  the  station  was  only  five  min- 
utes' walk,  the  stranger  naturally 
came  on  foot.  A  dark  girl,  and  of 
tolerably  good  features;  rather 
dressy;  with  a  carriage  correspond- 
ing to  the  tone  of  her  letter — an  easy 
swing,  head  well  up  and  shoulders 
squared. 

"Oh,  how  I  hope  she  isn't  vulgar!" 
said  Emmeline,  to  herself.  "I  don't 
like  the  hat — I  don't.  And  that  sun- 
shade with  the  immense  handle," 

'     14 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

From  the  top  of  the  stairs  she 
heard  a  clear,  hard  voice: 

"Mrs.  Mumford   at  home?" 

Yes,  the  aspirate  was  sounded — 
thank    goodness! 

It  surprised  her,  on  entering  the 
room,  to  find  that  Miss  Derrick  looked 
no  less  nervous  than  she  was  herself. 
The  girl's  cheeks  were  flushed,  and 
she  half  choked  over  her  "How  do 
you  do?" 

"I  hope  you  had  no  difficulty  in 
finding  the  house.  I  would  have 
met  you  at  the  station  if  you  had 
mentioned  the  train.  Oh,  but — how 
silly!    I  shouldn't  have  known  you." 

Miss  Derrick  laughed,  and  seemed 
of  a  sudden  much  more  at  ease. 

"Oh,  I  like  you  for  that,"  she  ex- 
claimed, mirthfully.  "It's  just  the 
kind  of  thing  I  say  myself  some- 
times. And  I'm  so  glad  to  see  that 
you  are — you  mustn't  be  oiTended — 
I  mean  you're  not  the  kind  of  person 
to  be  afraid  of." 
They  laughed  together.      Emme- 

15 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

line  could  not  subdue  her  delight 
when  she  found  that  the  girl  really 
might  be  accepted  as  a  lady.  There 
were  faults  of  costume,  undeniably ; 
money  had  been  misspent  in  several 
directions;  but  no  glaring  vulgarity 
hurt  the  eye.  And  her  speech, 
though  not  strictly  speaking  refined, 
was  free  from  the  faults  that  betray 
low  origin.  Then,  she  seemed  good- 
natured;  though  something  about  her 
mouth  was  not  altogether  charming. 

"Do  you  know  Sutton  at  all?" 
Emmeline  inquired. 

"Never  was  here  before.  But  I 
like  the  look  of  it.  I  like  this  house, 
too.  I  suppose  you  know  a  lot  of 
people  here,  Mrs.  Mumford?" 

"Well,  no.  There's  only  one 
family  we  know  at  all  well.  Our 
friends  live  in  London.  Of  course 
they  often  come  out  here.  I  don't 
know  whether  you  are  acquainted 
with  any  of  them.  The  Kirby-Simp- 
sons,  of  West  Kensington;  and  Mrs. 
Hollings,  of  Highgate " 

l6 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Miss  Derrick  cast  down  her  eyes, 
and  seemed  to  reflect.  Then  she 
spoke  abruptly. 

"I  don't  know  any  people  to  speak 
of — I    ought    to    tell   you   that   my 
mother   has   come    down   with   me. 
She's  waiting  at  the  station,  till  I  go 
back;  then  she'll  come  and  see  you. 
You're     surprised?       Well,     I     had 
better  tell  you  that  I'm  leaving  home 
because    I    can't    get   on   with    my 
people.     Mother  and   I  have  always 
quarrelled,    but   it  has   been   worse 
than   ever   lately,      I   must  explain 
that  she  has  married  a  second  time, 
and  Mr.    Higgins— I'm  glad  to  say 
that  isn't  my  name — has  a  daughter 
of  his  own,  by  a  first  marriage;  and 
we  can't  bear  each  other — Miss  Hig- 
gins, I  mean.     Some  day,  if  I  come 
to  live  here,  I   dare  say  I  shall  tell 
you  more.     Mr.  Higgins  is  rich,  and 
I  can't  say  he's  unkind  to  me;  he'll 
give  me  as  much  as  I  want;  but  I'm 
sure  he'll  be  very  glad  to  get  me  out 
of  the  house.     I  have  no  money  of 

17 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

my  own — worse  luck.  Well,  we 
thought  it  best  for  me  to  come  alone, 
first,  and  see — just  to  see,  you  know, 
whether  we  were  likely  to  suit  each 
other.  Then  mother  will  come,  and 
tell  you  all  she  has  to  say  about  me. 
Of  course,  I  know  what  it'll  be. 
They  all  say  I've  a  horrible  temper. 
I  don't  think  so  myself,  and  I'm  sure 
I  don't  think  I  should  quarrel  with 
you,  you  look  so  nice.  But  I  can't 
get  on  at  home,  it's  better  for  all 
that  we  should  part.  I'm  just  two 
and  twenty — do  I  look  older?  I 
haven't  learnt  to  do  anything,  and  I 
suppose  I  shall  never  need  to." 

"Do  you  wish  to  see  much  so- 
ciety?" inquired  Mrs.  Mumford,  who 
was  thinking  rapidly.  "Or  should 
you  prefer  a  few  really  nice  people? 
I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  understand 
yet  whether  you  want  society  of  the 
pleasure-seeking  kind,  or " 

She  left  the  alternative  vague. 
Miss  Derrick  again  reflected  for  a 
moment,  before  declaring  herself. 

i8 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"I  feel  sure  that  your  friends  are 
the  kind  I  want  to  know.  At  all 
events,  I  should  like  to  try.  The 
great  thing  is,  to  get  away  from 
home,  and  see  how  things  look." 

They  laughed  together.  Emme- 
line,  after  a  little  more  talk,  offered 
to  take  her  visitor  over  the  house, 
and  Miss  Derrick  had  loud  praise  for 
everything  she  saw. 

"What  I  like  about  you,"  she  ex- 
claimed of  a  sudden,  as  they  stood 
looking  from  a  bedroom  window 
over  the  garden,  "is  that  you  don't 
put  on  any — you  know  what  I  mean. 
People  seem  to  me  to  be  generally 
either  low  and  ignorant,  or  so  high 
and  mighty  there's  no  getting  on 
with  them  at  all.  You're  just  what 
I  wanted  to  find.  Now  I  must  go 
and  send  mother  to  see  you." 

Emmeline  protested  against  this 
awkward  proceeding.  Why  should 
not  both  come  together,  and  have  a 
cup  of  tea?  If  it  were  desired,  Miss 
Derrick  could   step  into  the  garden 

19 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

whilst  her  mother  said  whatever  she 
wished  to  say.  The  girl  assented, 
and  in  excellent  spirits  betook  her- 
self to  the  railway  station.  Emme- 
line  waited  something  less  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour;  then  a  hansom 
drove  up,  and  Mrs.  Higgins,  after  a 
deliberate  surveyal  of  the  house- 
front,  followed  her  daughter  up  the 
pathway. 

The  first  sight  of  the  portly  lady 
made  the  situation  clearer  to  Mrs. 
Mumford.  Louise  Derrick  repre- 
sented a  certain  stage  of  civilization, 
a  degree  of  conscious  striving  for 
better  things;  Mrs.  Higgins  was 
prosperous  and  self-satisfied  vulgar- 
ity. Of  a  complexion  much  lighter 
than  the  girl's,  she  still  possessed  a 
coarse  comeliness,  which  pointed 
back  to  the  dairymaid  type  of  dam- 
sel; her  features  revealed  at  the 
same  time  a  kindly  nature  and  an 
irascible  tendency. 

Monstrously  over-dressed,  weighted 
with  costly  gewgaws,  she  came  for- 

20 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

ward  panting  and  perspiring,  and, 
before  paying  any  heed  to  her  host- 
ess, closely  surveyed  the  room. 

"Mrs.  Mum  ford,"  said  the  girl, 
"this  is  my  mother.  Mother,  this  is 
Mrs.  Mumford.  And  now,  please 
let  me  go  somewhere  whilst  you  have 
your  talk. " 

"Yes,  that'll  be  best,  that'll  be 
best,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Higgins. 
"Dear,  how  'ot  it  is!  Run  out  into 
the  garden,  Louise.  Nice  little 
'ouse,  Mrs.  Mumford.  And  Louise 
seems  quite  taken  with  you.  She 
doesn't  take  to  people  very  easy, 
either.  Of  course,  you  can  give 
satisfactory  references  ?  I  like  to  do 
things  in  a  business-like  way.  I 
understand  your  'usband  is  in  the 
city;  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  knows 
some  of  Mr.  'Iggins' friends.  Yes, 
I  will  take  a  cup,  if  you  please,  I've 
just  had  one  at  the  station,  but  it's 
such  thirsty  weather.  And  what  do 
you  think  of  Louise?  Because 
I'd     very    much     rather    you     said 

21 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

plainly  if  you  don't  think  you  could 
get  on.  ' 

"But,  indeed,  I  fancy  we  could, 
Mrs.  Higgins. " 

"Well,  I'm  sure  I'm  very  glad  of 
it.  It  isn't  everybody  can  get  on 
with  Louise.  I  dassay  she's  told 
you  a  good  deal  about  me  and  her 
step-father.  I  don't  think  she's  any 
reason  to  complain  of  the  treatment. 

"She  said  you  were  both  very  kind 
to  her,"  interposed  the  hostess. 

"I'm  sure  we  try  to  be,  and  Mr. 
'Iggins,  he  doesn't  mind  what  he 
gives  her.  A  five-pound  note,  if 
you'll  believe  me,  is  no  more  than  a 
sixpence  to  him  when  he  gives  her 
presents.  You  see,  Mrs.  Rumford — 
no,  Mumford,  isn't  it? — I  was  first 
married  very  young;  scarcely  eight- 
een, I  was;  and  Mr.  Derrick  died 
on  our  wedding  day,  two  years  after. 
Then  came  Mr.  'Iggins.  Of  course, 
1  waited  a  proper  time.  And  one 
thing  I  can  say,  that  no  woman  was 
ever  'appier  with  two  'usbands  than 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

I've  been.  I've  two  sons  growing 
up;  hearty  boys  as  ever  you  saw.  If 
it     wasn't     for     this    trouble    with 

Louise "  She  stopped  to  wipe  her 

face.  "I  dessay  she's  told  you  that 
Mr.  'Iggins,  who  was  a  widower 
when  I  met  him,  has  a  daughter  of 
his  first  marriage — her  poor  mother 
died  at  the  birth.  And  she's  older 
than  Louise;  I  don't  mind  telling 
you,  Mrs.  Mumford,  she's  close  upon 
six  and  twenty,  and  nothing  like  so 
good  looking  as  Louise,  neither, 
Mr.  'Iggins,  he's  kindness  itself,  but 
when  it  comes  to  differences  be- 
tween his  daughter  and  my  daughter, 
well,  it  isn't  nature  he  shouldn't 
favour  his  own.  There's  more 
be'ind,  but  I  dessay  you  can  guess, 
and  I  won't  trouble  you  with  things 
that  don't  concern  you.  And  that's 
how  it  stands,  you  see. ' ' 

By  a  rapid  calculation,  Emmeline 
discovered,  with  surprise,  that  ]\Irs. 
Higgins  could  not  be  much  more 
than    forty    years   of    age.      It    must 

33 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

have  been  a  life  of  gross  self-indul- 
gence that  had  made  the  woman  look 
at  least  ten  years  older.  This  very 
undesirable  parentage  naturally 
affected  Emmeline's  opinion  of 
Louise,  whose  faults  began  to  show 
in  a  more  pronounced  light.  One 
thing  was  clear;  but  for  the  fact  that 
Louise  aimed  at  a  separation  from 
her  relatives,  it  would  be  barely  pos- 
sible to  think  of  receiving  her. 
If  Mrs.  Higgins  thought  of  com- 
ing down  to  Sutton  at  unexpected 
moments — no,  that  was  too  dread- 
ful. 

"Should  you  wish,  Mrs.  Higgins, 
to  entrust  your  daughter  to  me  en- 
tirely ?" 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Mumford,  it's  very 
little  that  my  wishes  has  to  do  with 
it.  She's  made  up  her  mind  to  leave 
'ome,  and  all  I  can  do  is  to  see  she 
gets  with  respectable  people,  which 
I  feel  sure  you  are,  and  of  course  I 
shall  have  your  references." 

Emmeline  turned  pale  at  the  sug- 

24 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

gestion.      She  all  but  decided    that 
the  matter  must  go  no  further. 

"And  what  might  your  terms  be, 
— inclusive?"      Mrs.     Higgins    pro- 
ceeded to  inquire. 

At  this  moment  a  servant  entered 
with  tea,  and  Emmeline,  sorely 
flurried,  talked  rapidly  of  the  advan- 
tages of  Sutton  as  a  residence.  She 
did  not  allow  her  visitor  to  put  in  a 
word  till  the  door  closed  again. 
Then,  with  an  air  of  decision,  she 
announced  her  terms;  they  would  be 
three  guineas  a  week.  It  was  half  a 
guinea  more  than  she  and  Clarence 
had  decided  to  ask.  She  expected, 
she  hoped,  Mrs.  Higgins  would  look 
grave.  But  nothing  of  the  kind; 
Louise's  mother  seemed  to  think  the 
suggestion  very  reasonable.  There- 
upon Emmeline  added  that,  of 
course,  the  young  lady  would  dis- 
charge her  own  laundress'  bill.  To 
this  also  Mrs.  Higgins  readily  as- 
sented. 

"A  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  per 

35 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

annum!"  Emmeline  kept  repeating 
:o  herself.  And,  alas,  it  looked  as  if 
she  might  have  asked  much  more. 
The  reference  difBculty  might  be 
minimized  by  naming  her  own 
married  sister,  who  lived  at  Black- 
heath,  and  Clarence's  most  intimate 
friend,  Mr.  Tarling,  who  held  a 
good  position  in  a  city  house,  and 
had  a  most  respectable  address  at 
West  Kensington.  But  her  heart 
misgave  her.  She  dreaded  her  hus- 
band's return  home. 

The  conversation  was  prolonged 
for  half  an  hour.  Emmeline  gave 
her  references,  and  in  return  re- 
quested the  like  from  Mrs.  Higgins. 
This  astonished  the  good  woman. 
Why,  her  husband  was  Messrs. 
'Iggins  of  Fenchurch  Street!  Oh,  a 
mere  formality,  Emmeline  hastened 
to  add — for  Mr.  Mumford's  satisfac- 
tion. So  Mrs.  Higgins  very  pom- 
pously named  two  city  firms,  and 
negotiations  for  the  present  were  at 
an  end. 

26 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Louise,  summoned  to  the  drawing- 
room,  looked  rather  tired  of  waiting. 

"When  can  you  have  me,  Mrs. 
Mumford?"  she  asked.  "I've  quite 
made  up  my  mind  to  come." 

"I'm  afraid  a  day  or  two  must 
pass,  Miss  Derrick." 

"The    references,    my    dear " 

began  Mrs.  Higgins. 

"Oh,  nonsense!  It's  all  right, 
any  one  can  see." 

"There  you  go!  Always  cutting 
short  the  words  in  my  mouth.  I 
can't  endure  such  behaviour,  and  I 
wonder  what  Mrs.  Rumford  thinks 
of  it.  I've  given  Mrs.  Rumford  fair 
warning." 

They  wrangled  for  a  few  minutes, 
Emmeline  feeling  too  depressed  and 
anxious  to  interfere  with  polite  com- 
monplaces. When  at  length  they 
took  their  leave,  .'^he  saw  the  last  of 
them  with  a  sigh  of  thanksgiving. 
It  had  happened  most  fortunately 
that  no  one  called  this  afternoon. 

"Clarence,    it's  quite    out   of   the 

27 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

question."  Thus  she  greeted  her 
husband.  "The  girl  herself  I  could 
endure,  but,  oh!  her  odious  mother! 
Three  guineas  a  week!  I  could  cry 
over  the  thought." 

By  the  first  post  in  the  morning 
came  a  letter  from  Louise.  She 
wrote  appealingly,  touchingly.  "I 
know  you  couldn't  stand  my  mother, 
but  do  please  have  me.  I  like  Sut- 
ton, and  I  like  your  house,  and  I  like 
you.  I  promise  faithfully  nobody 
from  home  shall  ever  come  to  see 
me,  so  don't  be  afraid.  Of  course, 
if  you  won't  have  me,  somebody  else 
will;  I've  got  two  hundred  to  choose 
from.  But  I'd  rather  come  to  you. 
Do  write  and  say  I  may  come.  I'm 
so  sorry  I  quarrelled  with  mother 
before  you.  I  promise  never  to 
quarrel  with  you.  I'm  very  good- 
tempered  when  I  get  what  I  want." 
With  much  more  to  the  same 
effect. 

"We  will  have  her,"  declared 
Mumford.       "Why   not,    if   the   old 

'        28 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

people  keep  away?  You  are  quite 
sure  she  sounds  her  /t's?" 

"Oh,  quite.  She  has  been  to 
pretty  good  schools,  I  think.  And 
I  dare  say  I  could  persuade  her  to  get 
other  dresses  and  hats." 

"Of  course  you  could.  Really, 
it  seems  almost  a  duty  to  take  her — 
doesn't  it?" 

So  the  matter  was  settled,  and 
Mumford  ran  off  gaily  to  catch  hi? 
train. 

Three  days  later  Miss  Derrick  ar- 
rived, bringing  with  her  something 
like  half  a  ton  of  luggage.  She 
bounded  up  the  door-steps,  and, 
meeting  Mrs.  Mumford  in  the  hall, 
kissed  her  fervently. 

"I've  got  such  heaps  to  tell  you  I 
Mr.  Higgins  has  given  me  twenty 
pounds  to  go  on;  for  myself,  I  mean ; 
of  course,  he'll  pay  everything  else. 
How  delighted  I  am  to  be  here! 
Please  pay  the  cabman;  I've  got  no 
change." 

A  few  hours   before  this  there  had 

39 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

come  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Higgins; 
better  written  and  spelt  than  would 
have  seemed  likely. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Mumford,"  it  ran, 
"L.  is  coming  to-morrow  morning, 
and  I  hope  you  won't  repent. 
There's  just  one  thing  I  meant  to 
have  said  to  you,  but  forgot,  so  I'll 
say  it  now.  If  it  should  happen  that 
any  gentleman  of  your  acquaintance 
takes  a  fancy  to  L.,  and  if  it  should 
come  to  anything,  I'm  sure  both  Mr. 
H.  and  me  would  be  most  thankful, 
and  Mr.  H.  would  behave  handsome 
to  her.  And  what's  more,  I'm  sure 
he  would  be  only  too  glad  to  show  in 
a  handsome  zvay  the  thanks  he  would 
owe  to  you  and  Mr.  M. 

"Very  truly  yours, 

"Susan  H.  Higgins." 


30 


CHAPTER  11. 

"Runnymede"  (so  the  Mumfords' 
house  was  named)  stood  on  its  own 
little  plot  ot  ground  in  one  of  the 
tree-shadowed  roads  which  persuade 
the  inhabitants  of  Sutton  that  they 
live  in  the  country.  It  was  of  red 
brick,  and  double-fronted,  with  a 
porch  of  wood  and  stucco;  bay  win- 
dows on  one  side  of  the  entrance,  and 
flat  on  the  other,  made  the  contrast 
pleasing  to  the  suburban  eye.  The 
little  front  garden  had  a  close  fence 
of  unpainted  lath,  a  characteristic  of 
the  neighbourhood.  At  the  back  of 
the  house  lay  a  long,  narrow  lawn, 
bordered  with  flower  beds,  and 
shaded  at  the  far  end  by  a  fine  horse- 
chestnut. 

Emmeline  talked  much  of  the  de- 
lightful proximity  of  the  downs;  one 
would    have    imagined    her    taking 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

long  walks  over  the  breezy  uplands, 
to  Banstead,  or  Epsom,  or  yet  further 
afield.  The  fact  was  she  saw  no 
more  of  the  country  than  if  she  had 
lived  at  Brixton.  Her  windows 
looked  only  upon  the  surrounding 
houses  and  their  garden  foliage. 
Occasionally  she  walked  along  the 
asphalt  pavement  of  the  Brighton 
Road,  a  nursemaid's  promenade,  as 
far  as  the  stone  which  marks  twelve 
miles  from  Westminster  Bridge; 
here  indeed  she  breathed  the  air  of 
the  hills,  but  villas  on  either  hand 
obstructed  the  view  and  brought 
London  much  nearer  than  the  meas- 
ured distance.  Like  her  friends  and 
neighbours,  Emmeline  enjoyed  Sut- 
ton because  it  was  a  most  respect- 
able little  portion  of  the  great  town, 
set  in  a  purer  atmosphere.  The 
country  would  have  depressed  her. 

In  this  respect  Miss  Derrick  proved 
a  congenial  companion.  Louise 
made  no  pretence  of  rural  inclina- 
tions,   but   had   a    great  liking   for 

32 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

tree-shadowed  asphalt,  for  the  re- 
sults of  elaborate  horticulture,  for 
the  repose  and  the  graces  of  villa- 
dom. 

"I  should  like  to  have  a  house  just 
like  this,"  she  declared,  on  her  first 
evening  at  "Runnymede,"  talking 
with  her  host  and  hostess  out  in  the 
garden.  "It's  quite  big  enough — 
unless,  of  course,  you  have  a  very 
large  family — which  must  be  rather 
a  bore."  She  laughed  ingenuously. 
"And  one  gets  to  town  so  easily. 
What  do  you  pay  for  your  season 
ticket,  Mr.  Mumford?  Eh;  well, 
that  isn't  much.  I  almost  think  I 
shall  get  one." 

"Do  you  wish  to  go  up  very 
often?"  asked  Emmeline,  reflecting 
on  her  new  responsibilities. 

"Oh,  not  every  day,  of  course. 
But  a  season  ticket  saves  the  bother 
each  time,  and  you've  a  sort  of  feel- 
ing, you  know,  that  you  can  be  in 
town  w^ienever  you  like. " 

It  had  not  hitherto  been  the  Mum- 

33 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

fords'  wont  to  dress  for  dinner,  but 
this  evening  they  did  so,  and  ob- 
viously to  Miss  Derrick's  gratifica- 
tion. She  herself  appeared  in  a 
dress  which  altogether  outshone  that 
of  her  hostess.  Afterwards,  in  pri- 
vate, she  drew  Emmeline's  attention 
to  this  garb,  and  frankly  asked  her 
opinion  of  it. 

"Very  nice,  indeed,"  murmured 
the  married  lady,  with  a  good-na- 
tured smile.  "Perhaps — just  a 
little " 

"There,  I  know  what  you're  going 
to  say.  You  think  it's  too  showy. 
Now  I  want  you  to  tell  me  just  what 
you  think  about  everything — every- 
thing. I  shan't  be  offended;  I'm 
not  so  silly.  You  know  I've  come 
here  to  learn  all  sorts  of  things. 
To-morrow  you  shall  go  over  all  my 
dresses  with  me,  and  those  you  don't 
like  I'll  get  rid  of.  I've  never  had 
any  one  to  tell  me  what's  nice  and 
what  isn't.  I  want  to  be — oh,  well, 
you  know  what  I  mean. " 

34 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"But,  my  dear,"  said  Erameline, 
"there's  something  I  don't  quite 
understand.  You  say  I'm  to  speak 
plainly,  and  so  I  will.  How  is  it 
that  you  haven't  made  friends  long 
ago  with  the  sort  of  people  you  wish 
to  know?  It  isn't  as  if  you  were  in 
poor  circumstances." 

"How  could  I  make  friends  with 
nice  people,  when  I  was  ashamed  to 
have  them  at  home?  The  best  I 
know  are  quite  poor — girls  I  went 
to  school  with.  They're  much  better 
educated  than  I  am,  but  they  make 
their  own  living,  and  so  I  can't  see 
very  much  of  them;  and  I'm  not 
sure  they  want  to  see  much  of  me. 
I  wish  I  knew  what  people  think  of 
me;  they  call  me  vulgar,  I  believe — 
the  kind  I'm  speaking  of.  Now,  do 
tell  me,  Mrs.  Mumford;  am  I 
vulgar?" 

"My  dear  Miss  Derrick!"  Emme- 
line  began  in  protest;  but  was  at 
once  interrupted. 

"Oh,  that  isn't  what  I  want.     You 

35 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

must  call  me  Louise,  or  Lou,  if  you 
like;  and  just  say  what  you  really 
think.  Yes,  I  see,  I  am  rather  vul- 
gar; and  what  can  you  expect? 
Look  at  mother;  and  if  you  saw  Mr. 
Higgins,  oh!  The  mistake  I  made 
was  to  leave  school  so  soon.  I  got 
sick  of  it,  and  left  at  sixteen,  and  of 
course  the  idiots  at  home — I  mean, 
the  foolish  people — let  me  have  my 
own  way.  I'm  not  clever,  you 
know,  and  I  didn't  get  on  well  at 
school.  They  used  to  say  I  could  do 
much  better  if  I  liked,  and  perhaps 
it  was  more  laziness  than  stupidity; 
though  I  don't  care  for  books — I 
wish  I  did.  I've  had  lots  of  friends, 
but  I  never  keep  them  for  very  long. 
I  don't  know  whether  it's  their  fault 
or  mine.  My  oldest  friends  are  Amy 
Baker  and  Muriel  Featherstone;  they 
were  both  at  the  school  at  Clapham, 
and  now  Amy  does  typewriting  in 
the  city,  and  Muriel  is  at  a  pho- 
tographer's. They're  awfully  nice 
girls,  and  I  like  them  so  much,  but 

36 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

then,  you  see,  they  haven't  got 
enough  money  to  live  in  what  / 
should  call  a  nice  way.  And,  you 
know,  I  should  never  think  of  asking 
them  to  advise  me  about  my  dresses, 
or  anything  of  that  kind.  A  friend 
of  mine  once  began  to  say  some- 
thing, and  I  didn't  like  it;  after  that 
we  had  nothing  to  do  with  each 
other." 

Emmeline  could  not  hide  her 
amusement. 

"Well,  that's  just  it,"  went  on  the 
other,  frankly.  "I  have  rather  a 
sharp  temper,  and  I  suppose  I  don't 
get  on  very  well  with  most  people. 
I  used  to  quarrel  dreadfully  with 
some  of  the  girls  at  school — the  up- 
pish sort.  And  yet  all  the  time  I 
wanted  to  be  friends  with  them. 
But,  of  course,  I  could  never  have 
taken  them  home." 

Mrs.  Mumford  began  to  read  the 
girl's  character,  and  to  understand 
how  its  complexity  had  shaped  her 
life.     She  was  still  uneasy  as  to  the 

37 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

impression  this  guest  would  make 
upon  their  friends,  but  on  the  whole 
it  seemed  probable  that  Louise  would 
conscientiously  submit  herself  to  in- 
struction, and  do  her  very  best  to  be 
"nice. "  Clarence's  opinion  was  still 
favourable;  he  pronounced  Miss 
Derrick  "very  amusing,"  and  less  of 
a  savage  than  his  wife's  description 
had  led  him  to  expect. 

Having  the  assistance  of  two  ser- 
vants and  a  nursegirl,  Emmeline 
was  not  over-burdened  with  domes- 
tic work.  She  soon  found  it  fortu- 
nate that  her  child,  a  boy  of  two 
years  old,  needed  no  great  share  of 
her  attention;  for  Miss  Derrick, 
though  at  first  she  affected  an  ex- 
travagant interest  in  the  baby,  very 
soon  had  enough  of  that  plaything, 
and  showed  a  decided  preference  for 
Emmeline's  society  out  of  sight  and 
hearing  of  nursery  affairs.  On  the 
afternoon  of  the  second  day,  they 
went  together  to  call  upon  Mrs. 
Fentiman,  who  lived  at  a  distance  of 

38 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk,  in  a 
house  called  "Hazeldene,"  a  semi- 
detached house,  considerably  smaller 
than  "Runnymede,"  and  neither 
without  nor  within  so  pleasant  to 
look  upon.  Mrs.  Fentiman,  a  tall, 
hard-featured,  but  amiable  lady,  had 
two  young  children  who  occupied 
most  of  her  time;  at  present,  one  of 
them  was  ailing,  and  the  mother 
could  talk  of  nothing  else  but  this 
distressing  circumstance.  The  call 
lasted  only  for  ten  minutes,  and 
Emmeline  felt  that  her  companion 
was  disappointed. 

"Children  are  a  great  trouble," 
Louise  remarked,  when  they  had 
left  the  house.  ' '  People  ought  never 
to  marry  unless  they  can  keep  a  lot 
of  servants.  Not  long  ago,  I  was 
rather  fond  of  somebody,  but  I 
shouldn't  have  been,  because  he  had 
no  money.  Don't  you  think  I  was 
quite  right?" 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  were." 
"And  now,"  pursued  the  girl,  pok- 

39 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

ing  the  ground  with  her  sunshade  as 
she  walked,  "there's  somebody  else. 
And  that  is  one  of  the  things  I  want 
to  tell  you  about.  He  has  about 
three  hundred  a  year.  It  isn't  much, 
of  course;  but  I  suppose  Mr.  Hig- 
gins  would  give  me  something.  And 
yet  I'm  sure  it  won't  come  to  any- 
thing. Let's  go  home,  and  have  a 
good  talk,  shall  we?" 

Mrs.  Higgins'  letter  had  caused 
Emmeline  and  her  husband  no  little 
amusement;  but  at  the  same  time  it 
led  them  to  reflect.  Certainly  they 
numbered  among  their  acquaintances 
one  or  twomariiageable  young  men, 
who  might  perchance  be  attracted 
by  Miss  Derrick,  especially  if  they 
learnt  that  Mr.  Higgins  was  disposed 
to  "behave  handsomely"  to  his  step- 
daughter; but  the  Mumfords  had  no 
desire  to  see  Louise  speedily  married. 
To  the  bribe  with  which  the  letter 
ended  they  could  give  no  serious 
thought.  Having  secured  their 
"paying    guest,"    they     hoped    she 

40 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

would  remain  with  them  for  a  year 
or  two  at  least.  But  already  Louise 
had  dropped  hints  such  as  Emmeline 
could  not  fail  to  understand,  and  her 
avowal  of  serious  interest  in  a  lover 
came  rather  as  an  annoyance  than  a 
surprise  to  Mrs.  Mumford. 

It  was  a  hot  afternoon,  and  they 
had  tea  brought  out  into  the  garden, 
under  the  rustling  leaves  of  the 
chestnut. 

"You  don't  know  any  one  else  in 
Sutton  except  Mrs.  Fentiman?" 
Louise  remarked  as  she  leaned  back 
in  the  wicker  chair. 

"Not  intimately.  But  some  of 
our  friends  from  London  will  be 
coming  on  Sunday.  I've  asked  four 
people  to  lunch." 

"How  jolly!  Of  course,  you'll 
tell  me  all  about  them  before  then. 
But  I  want  to  talk  about  Mr.  Cobb. 
Please,  tivo  lumps  of  sugar.  I've 
known  him  for  about  a  year  and  a 
half.  We  seem  quite  old  friends, 
and  he  writes  to  me.     I  don't  answer 

41 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

the  letters  unless  there's  something 
to  say.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  don't 
like  him." 

''How  can  that  be,  if  you  seem  old 
friends?" 

"Well,  he  likes  me,  and  there's  no 
harm  in  that,  so  long  as  he  under- 
stands. I'm  sure  jwic  wouldn't  like 
him.  He's  a  rough,  coarse  sort  of 
man,  and  has  a  dreadful  temper." 

"Good  gracious!  What  is  his 
position?" 

"Oh,  he's  connected  with  the  what- 
d'ye-call-it  Electric  Lighting  Com- 
pany. He  travels  about  a  great 
deal.  I  shouldn't  mind  that;  it 
must  be  rather  nice  not  to  have  one's 
husband  always  at  home.  Just  now, 
I  believe  he's  in  Ireland.  I  shall  be 
having  a  letter  from  him  very  soon, 
no  doubt.  He  doesn't  know  I've  left 
home,  and  it'll  make  him  wild.  Yes, 
that's  the  kind  of  man  he  is.  Fear- 
fully jealous,  and  such  a  temper!  If 
I  married  him,  I'm  quite  sure  he 
would  beat  me  some  day." 

* 

42 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"Oh!"  Emmeline  exclaimed. 
"How  can  you  have  anything  to  do 
with  such  a  man^" 

"He"s  very  nice  sometimes," 
answered  Louise,  thoughtfully. 

"But  do  you  really  mean  that  he 
is  'rough  and  coarse?'  " 

"Yes,  I  do.  You  couldn't  call 
him  a  gentleman.  I've  never  seen 
his  people;  they  live  somewhere 
a  long  way  off,  and  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  they  are  a  horrid  lot. 
His  last  letter  was  quite  insulting. 
He  said — let  me  see,  what  was  it? 
Yes — 'You  have  neither  heart  nor 
brains,  and  I  shall  do  my  best  not  to 
waste  another  thought  on  you.' 
What  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"It  seems  very  extraordinary,  my 
dear.  How  can  he  write  to  you  in 
that  way,  if  you  never  gave  him  any 
encouragement?" 

"Well,  but  I  suppose  I  have. 
We've  met  on  the  Common  now  and 
then,  and — and  that  kind  of  thino-. 
I'm    afraid     you're    shocked,     Mrs. 


43 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Mumford.  I  know  it  isn't  the  way 
that  nice  peoTjle  behave,  and  I'm 
going  to  give  it  up. 

"Does  your  mother  know  him?" 

"Oh,  yes;  there's  no  secret  about 
it.  Mother  rather  likes  him.  Of 
course  he  behaves  himself  when  he's 
at  the  house.  I've  a  good  mind  to 
ask  him  to  call  here,  so  that  you 
could  see  him.  Yes,  I  should  like 
you  to  see  him.  You  wouldn't 
mind?" 

"Not  if  you  really  wish  it,  Louise. 
But — I  can't  help  thinking  you  ex- 
aggerate his  faults. " 

"Not  a  bit.  He's  a  regular  brute 
when  he  gets  angry.  " 

"  My  dear, "  Emmeline  interposed, 
softly.  "That  isn't  quite  a  ladylike 
expression." 

"No,  it  isn't.  Thank  you,  Mrs. 
Mumford.  I  meant  to  say  he  is 
horrid,  very  disagreeable.  Then 
there's  something  else  I  want  to  tell 
you  about.  Cissy  Higgins,  that's 
Mr.    Higgins'   daughter,  you  know, 

44 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

is  half  engaged  to  a  man  called 
Bowling;  an  awful  idiot.  " 

"I  don't  think  I  would  use  that 
word,  dear." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Mumford.  I 
mean  to  say  he's  a  regular  silly.  But 
he's  in  a  very  good  position;  a  part- 
ner in  Jannaway  Brothers,  of  Wool- 
wich, though  he  isn't  thirty  yet. 
Well,  now;  what  do  you  think?  Mr. 
Bowling  doesn't  seem  to  know  his 
own  mind,  and  just  lately  he's  been 
paying  so  much  attention  to  me 
that  Cissy  has  got  quite  frantic  about 
it.  This  was  really  and  truly  the 
reason  why  I  left  home." 

"I  see,"  murmured  the  listener, 
with  a  look  of  genuine  interest. 

"Yes.  They  wanted  to  get  me 
out  of  the  way.  There  isn't  the 
slightest  fear  that  I  should  try  to  cut 
Cissy  Higgins  out;  but  it  was  get- 
ting very  awkward  for  her,  I  admit. 
Now  that's  the  kind  of  thing  that 
doesn't  go  on  among  nice  people, 
isn't  it?" 


45 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"But  what  do  you  mean,  Louise, 
when  you  say  that  Miss  Higgins  and 
Mr. — Mr.  Bowling  are  half  en- 
gaged?" 

"Oh,- 1  mean  she  has  refused  him 
once,  just  for  form's  sake;  but  he 
knows  very  well  she  means  to  have 
him.  People  of  your  kind  don't  do 
that  sort  of  thing,  do  they?" 

"I  hardly  know,"  Emmeline  re- 
plied, colouring  a  little  at  certain 
private  reminiscences.  "And  am  I 
to  understand  that  you  wouldn't  on 
any  account  listen  to  Mr.  Bowling?" 

Louise  laughed. 

"Oh,  there's  no  knowing  what  I 
might  do,  to  spite  Cissy.  We  hate 
each  other,  of  course.  But  I  can't 
fancy  myself  marrying  him.  He 
has  along  nose,  and  talks  through  it. 
And  he  says  'Think  you'  for  'Thank 
you. '  And  he  sings — oh !  to  hear 
him  sing!     I  can't  bear  the  man." 

The  matter  of  this  conversation 
Emmeline  reported  to  her  husband 
at  night,  and  they  agreed  in  a  hope 

46  4 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

that  neither  Mr.  Cobb  nor  Mr.  Bowl- 
ing would  make  an  appearance  at 
"Runnymede. "  Mumford  opined 
that  these  individuals  were  "cads. " 
Small  wonder,  he  said,  that  the  girl 
wished  to  enter  a  new  social  sphere. 
His  wife,  on  the  other  hand,  had  a 
suspicion  that  Miss  Derrick  would 
not  be  content  to  see  the  last  of  Mr. 
Cobb.  He,  the  electrical  engineer 
or  whatever  he  was,  could  hardly  be 
such  a  ruffian  as  the  girl  depicted. 
His  words,  "You  have  neither  heart 
nor  brains,"  seemed  to  indicate  any- 
thing but  a  coarse  mind. 

"But  what  a  bad-tempered  lot  they 
are!"  Mumford  observed.  "I  sup- 
pose people  of  that  sort  quarrel  and 
abuse  each  other  merely  to  pass  the 
time.  They  seem  to  be  just  one  de- 
gree above  the  roughs  who  come  to 
blows,  and  get  into  the  Police  Court. 
You  must  really  do  your  best  to  get 
the  girl  out  of  it;  I'm  sure  she  is 
worthy  of  better  things. " 

"She  is — in  one  way,"  answered 

47 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

his  wife,  judicially.  "But  her  edu- 
cation stopped  too  soon.  I  doubt  if 
it's  possible  to  change  her  very  much. 
And — I  really  should  like,  after  all, 
to  see  this  Mr.  Cobb." 

Mumford  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"There  yougo!  The  eternal  fem- 
inine. You'll  have  her  married  in 
six  months." 

"Don't  be  vulgar,  Clarence.  And 
we've  talked  enough  of  Louise  for 
the  present." 

Miss  Derrick's  presentiment  that 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Cobb  would  soon 
reach  her  was  justified  the  next  day; 
it  arrived  in  the  afternoon,  re-ad- 
dressed from  Battersea  Rise.  Em- 
meline  observed  the  eagerness  with 
which  this  epistle  was  pounced  upon 
and  carried  off  for  private  perusal. 
She  saw,  too,  that  in  half  an  hour's 
time  Louise  left  the  house — doubtless 
to  post  a  reply.  But,  to  her  sur- 
prise, not  a  word  of  the  matter  es- 
caped Miss  Derrick  during  the  whole 
evening. 

4S 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

In  her  school  days,  Louise  had 
learnt  to  "play  the  piano,"  but,  car- 
ing little  or  nothing-  for  music,  she 
had  hardly  touched  a  key  for  several 
years.  Now,  the  idea  possessed  her 
that  she  must  resume  her  practising, 
and  to-day  she  had  spent  hours  at 
the  piano,  with  painful  effect  upon 
Mrs.  Mumford's  nerves.  After 
dinner,  she  offered  to  play  to  Mum- 
ford,  and  he,  good-natured  fellow, 
stood  by  her  to  turn  over  the  leaves. 
Emmeline,  with  fancy  work  in  her 
hands,  watched  the  two.  She  was 
not  one  of  the  most  foolish  of  her 
sex,  but  it  relieved  her  when  Clar- 
ence moved  away. 

The  next  morning,  Louise  was  an 
hour  late  for  breakfast.  She  came 
down  when  Mumford  had  left  the 
house,  and  Emmeline  saw  with  sur- 
prise she  was  dressed  for  going  out. 

"Just  a  cup  of  coffee,  please.  I've 
no  appetite  this  morning,  and  I  want 
to  catch  a  train  for  Victoria  as  soon 
as  possible." 

40 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"When  will  you  be  back?" 
"Oh,  I  don't  quite  know.     To  tea, 
I  think." 

The  girl  had  all  at  once  grown  ret- 
icent, and  her  lips  showed  the  less 
amiable  possibilities  of  their  contour. 


.       50 


nOil. 


CHAPTER  III. 

At  dinner  time  she  had  not  re- 
turned. It  being  Saturday,  Mum- 
ford  was  back  early  in  the  afternoon, 
and  MivSS  Derrick's  absence  caused 
no  grief;  Emmeline  could  play  with 
baby  in  the  garden,  whilst  her  hus- 
band smoked  his  pipe  and  looked  on 
in  the  old  comfortable  way.  They 
already  felt  that  domestic  life  was 
not  quite  the  same  with  a  stranger 
to  share  it.  Doubtless  they  would 
get  used  to  the  new  restraints;  but 
Miss  Derrick  must  not  expect  them 
to  disorganize  their  meal  times  on 
her  account.  Promptly  at  half-past 
seven  they  sat  down  to  dine,  and  had 
just  risen  from  the  table  when 
Louise  appeared. 

She  was  in  excellent  spirits,  with- 
out a  trace    of    the   morning's   ill- 

51 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

humour.  No  apologies!  If  she 
didn't  feel  quite  free  to  come  and  go, 
without  putting  people  out,  there 
would  be  no  comfort  in  life.  A  slice 
of  the  joint,  that  was  all  she  wanted, 
and  she  would  have  done  in  a  few 
minutes. 

"I've  taken  tickets  for  Toole's 
Theatre  on  Monday  night.  You 
must  both  come.  You  can,  can't 
you?" 

Mum  ford  and  his  wife  glanced  at 
each  other.  Yes,  they  could  go; 
it  was  very  kind  of  Miss  Derrick; 
but 

"That's  all  right;  it'll  be  jolly. 
The  idea  struck  me  in  the  train,  as  I 
was  going  up;  so  I  took  a  cab  from 
Victoria,  and  booked  the  places  first 
thing.  Third  row  from  the  front, 
dress  circle;  the  best  I  could  do. 
Please  let  me  have  my  dinner  alone. 
Mrs.  Mumford,  I  want  to  tell  you 
something  afterwards." 

Clarence  went  round  to  see  his 
friend  Fentiman,  with  whom  he  usu- 

52 


i 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

ally  bad  a  chat  on  Saturday  evening. 
Emmeline  was  soon  joined  by  her 
guest  in  the  drawing-room. 

"There,  you  may  read  that,"  said 
Louise,  holding  out  a  letter.  "It's 
from  Mr.  Cobb;  came  yesterday,  but 
I  didn't  care  to  talk  about  it  then. 
Yes,  please  read  it;  I  want  you   to." 

Reluctantly,  but  with  curiosity, 
Emmeline  glanced  over  the  sheet. 
Mr.  Cobb  wrote  in  ignorance  of  Miss 
Derrick's  having  left  home.  It  was 
a  plain,  formal  letter,  giving  a  brief 
account  of  his  doings  in  Ireland,  and 
making  a  request  that  Louise  would 
meet  him,  if  possible,  on  Clapham 
Common,  at  three  o'clock  of  Satur- 
day afternoon.  And  he  signed  him- 
self, "Very  sincerely,  yours." 

"I  made  up  my  mind  at  once," 
said  the  girl,  "that  I  wouldn't  meet 
him.  That  kind  of  thing  will  have 
to  stop.  I'm  not  going  to  think  any 
more  of  him,  and  it's  better  to  make 
him  understand  it  at  once,  isn't  it?" 

Emmeline  heartily  concurred. 

53 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"Still,"  pursued  the  other,  with  an 
air  of  great  satisfaction,  "I  thought 
I  had  better  go  home  for  this  after- 
noon. Because,  when  he  didn't  see 
me  on  the  Common,  he  was  pretty 
sure  to  call  at  the  house,  and  I  didn't 
want  mother  or  Cissy  to  be  talking 
about  me  to  him  before  he  had  heard 
my  own  explanation." 

"Didn't  you  answer  the  letter?" 
asked  Emmeline. 

"No.  I  just  sent  a  line  to  mother, 
to  let  her  know  I  was  coming  over 
to-day,  so  that  she  might  stay  at 
home.  Well,  and  it  happened  just 
as  I  thought.  Mr.  Cobb  came  to  the 
house  at  half-past  three.  But  before 
that,  I'd  had  a  terrible  row  with 
Cissy — that  isn't  a  nice  expression, 
I  know,  but  it  really  was  one  of  our 
worst  quarrels.  Mr.  Bowling  hasn't 
been  near  since  I  left,  and  Cissy  is 
furious.  She  said  such  things  that 
I  had  to  tell  her  very  plainly  what  I 
thougl^t  of  her;  and  she  positively 
foamed  at  the  mouth!     'Now,  look 

54 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

here,  she  said, 'if  I  find  out  that  he 
goes  to  Sutton,  you'll  see  what  will 
happen.'  '  W/iat  will  happen?'  I 
asked.  'Father  will  stop  your 
allowance,  and  you'll  have  to  get  on 
as  best  you  can.'  'Oh,  very  well,' 
I  said,  'in  that  case,  I  shall  marry 
Mr.  Bowling. '  You  should  have  seen 
her  rage!  'You  said  you  wouldn't 
marry  him  if  he  had  ten  thousand  a 
year!'  she  screamed.  'I  dare  say  I 
did;    but   if    I've    nothing    to    live 

upon '     '  You  can  marry  your  Mr. 

Cobb,  can't  you?'  And  she  almost 
cried;  and  I  should  have  felt  sorry 
for  her,  if  she  hadn't  made  me  so 
angry.  'No,'  I  said,  'I  can't  marry 
Mr.  Cobb.  And  I  never  dreamt 
of  marrying  Mr.  Cobb.     And '" 

Emmeline  interposed. 

"Really,  Louise,  that  kind  of  talk 
isn't  at  all  ladylike.  What  a  pity 
you  went  home  at  all." 

"Yes,  I  was  sorry  for  it  afterwards. 
I  shan't  go  again  for  a  long  time ; 
I  promise  you  I  won't.      However, 

55 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Mr.  Cobb  came,  and  I  saw  him 
alone.  He  was  astonished  when  he 
heard  what  had  been  going  on ;  and 
he  was  astonished  at  ine^  too — I 
mean,  the  way  I  spoke.  I  wanted 
him  to  understand  at  once  that  there 
was  nothing  between  us;  I  talked  in 
rather  a — you  know  the  sort  of  way." 
She  raised  her  chin  slightly,  and 
looked  down  from  under  her  eyelids. 
"Oh,  I  assure  you  I  behaved  quite 
nicely.  But  he  got  into  a  rage,  as 
he  always  does,  and  began  to  call  me 
names.  And  I  wouldn't  stand  it. 
'Mr.  Cobb,'  I  said,  very  severely, 
'either  you  will  conduct  yourself 
properly,  or  you  will  leave  the  house. ' 
Then  he  tried  another  tone,  and  said 
very  different  things.  The  kind  of 
things  one  likes  to  hear,  you  know ; 
but  I  pretended  that  I  didn't  care  for 
it  a  bit.  'It's  all  over  between  us, 
then?'  he  shouted,  at  last;  yes,  really 
shouted,  and  I'm  sure  people  must 
have  heard.  'AH  over?'  I  said. 
'But    there    never   was    anything — 

56 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

nothing  serious.'  *0h,  all  right. 
Good-bye,  then.'  And  off  he  rushed. 
And  I  dare  say  I've  seen  the  last  of 
him — for  a  time." 

"Now  do  try  to  live  quietly,  my 
dear,"  said  Emmelme.  "Go  on  with 
your  music,  and  read  a  little  each 
day." 

"Yes,  that's  just  what  I'm  going 
to  do,  dear  Mrs,  Mumford.  And 
your  friends  will  be  here  to-morrow; 
it'll  be  so  quiet  and  nice.  And  on 
Monday  we  shall  go  to  the  theatre, 
just  for  a  change.  And  I'm  not 
going  to  think  of  those  people.  It's 
all  settled.  I  shall  live  very  quietly 
indeed." 

She  banged  on  the  piano  till  nearly 
eleven  o'clock,  and  went  off  to  bed 
with  a  smile  of  virtuous  contentment. 

The  guests  who  arrived  on  Sunday 
morning  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grove, 
Mr.  Bilton  and  Mr.  Dunnill.  Mrs. 
Grove  was  Emmeline's  elder  sister, 
a  merry,  talkative,  kindly  woman; 
aware  of  the  circumstances,  she  at 

57 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

once  made  friends  with  Miss  Derrick, 
and  greatly  pleased  that  young  lady 
by  a  skilful  blending  of  "superior" 
talk  with  easy  homeliness.  Mr. 
Bilton,  a  stock-broker's  clerk,  repre- 
sented the  better  kind  of  City  young 
man;  athletic,  yet  intelligent, 
spirited  without  vulgarity;  a 
breezy,  good-humoured,  wholesome 
fellow.  He  came  down  on  his 
bicycle,  and  would  return  in  the 
same  way.  Louise  at  once  made  a 
resolve  to  learn  cycling. 

"I  wish  you  lived  at  Sutton,  Mr. 
Bilton.  I  should  ask  you  to  teach 
me. 

"I'm  reall)^  very  sorry  that  I 
don't,"  replied  the  young  man,  dis- 
creetly. 

"Oh,  never  mind.  I'll  find  some- 
body." 

The  fourth  arrival,  Mr.  Dunnill, 
was  older  and  less  affable.  He 
talked  chiefly  with  Mr.  Grove,  a 
very  qiHet,  somewhat  care-worn 
man;    neither  of  them  seemed  able 

'  58 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

to  shake  off  business,  but  they  did 
not  obtrude  it  on  the  company  in 
general.  The  day  passed  pleasantly, 
but,  in  Miss  Derrick's  opinion, 
rather  soberly;  doing  her  best  to 
fascinate  Mr.  Bilton,  she  felt  a  slight 
disappointment  at  her  inability  to 
engross  his  attention,  and  at  the 
civil  friendship  which  he  thought  a 
sufficient  reply  to  her  gay  sallies. 
For  so  good-looking  and  well-dressed 
a  man,  he  struck  her  as  singularly 
reserved.  But  perhaps  he  was 
"engaged;"  yes,  that  must  be  the 
explanation.  When  the  guests  had 
left,  she  put  a  plain  question  to  Mrs. 
Mumford. 

"I  don't  think  he  is  engaged," 
answered  Emmeline,  who  on  the 
whole  was  satisfied  with  Miss  Der- 
rick's demeanour  throughout  the 
day, 

"Oh?  But  of  course  he  may  be, 
without  your  knowing  it.  Or  is  it 
always  made  known?" 

"There's  no  rule  about  it,  my  dear." 

59 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"And  they're  very  nice  people," 
said  Louise,  with  a  little  sigh. 
"And  I  like  your  sister  so  much. 
I'm  glad  she  asked  me  to  go  and  see 
her.  Is  Mr.  Bilton  often  at  her 
house?  Don't  misunderstand  me 
Mrs.  Mumford.  It's  only  that  I  do 
like  men's  society;  there's  no  harm, 
is  there?  And  people  like  Mr.  Bil- 
ton are  very  different  to  those  I've 
known;  and  I  want  to  see  more  of 
them,  you  know." 

"There's  no  harm  in  saying  that 
to  me,  Louise,"  replied  Mrs.  Mum- 
ford.  "But  pray  be  careful  not  to 
seem  'forward.'  People  think — and 
say — such  disagreeable  things." 

Miss  Derrick  was  grateful,  and 
again  gave  an  assurance  that  repose 
and  modesty  should  be  the  rule  of 
her  life. 

At  the  theatre  on  Monday  evening' 
she  exhibited  a  childlike  enjoyment 
which  her  companions  could  not  but 
envy.     The  freshness  of  her  sensibil 
ities   was    indeed    remarkable,    and 

,      60 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Emmeline  observed  with  pleasure 
that  her  mind  seemed  to  have  a  very 
wholesome  tone;  Louise  might  com- 
mit follies,  and  be  guilty  of  bad  taste 
to  any  extent,  but  nothing  in  her 
savoured  of  depravity. 

Tuesday  she  spent  at  home,  pre- 
tending to  read  a  little,  and  obviously 
thinking  a  great  deal.     On  Wednes- 
day   morning,     she    proposed    of  a 
sudden  that  Emmeline  should  go  up 
to  town  with  her  on  a  shopping  ex- 
pedition.    They  had  already  turned 
over  her  wardrobe,  numerous  articles 
whereof  were   condemned    by    Mrs. 
Mumford's    taste,    and    by    Louise 
cheerfully  sacrificed;    she  could  not 
rest   till   new   purchases    had    been 
made.       So,    after    early    luncheon, 
they  took  train  to  Victoria,  Louise 
insisting  that  all  the  expenses  should 
be  hers.     By    five   o'clock   she   had 
laid  out  some  fifteen  pounds,  vastly 
to  her  satisfaction.     They  took  tea 
at  a  restaurant,  and  reached  Sutton 
not  long  before  Mumford's  return. 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

On  Friday  they  went  to  London 
again,  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Grove. 
Louise  promised  that  this  should  be 
her  last  "outing"  for  a  whole  week. 
She  admitted  a  feeling  of  restless- 
ness, but  after  to-day  she  would 
overcome  it.  And  that  night  she 
apologized  formally  to  Mumford 
for  taking  his  wife  so  much  from 
home. 

"Please  don't  think  I  shall  always 
be  running  about  like  this.  I  feel 
that  I'm  settling  down.  We  are 
going  to  be  very  comfortable  and 
quiet." 

And,  to  the  surprise  of  her  friends, 
more  than  a  week  went  by  before 
she  declared  that  a  day  in  town  was 
absolutely  necessary.  Mr.  Higgins 
had  sent  her  a  fresh  supply  of 
money,  and  there  were  still  a  few 
things  she  needed  to  purchase.  But 
this  time  Emmeline  begged  her  to 
go  alone,  and  Louise  seemed  quite 
satisfied  with  the  arrangement. 

Early   in   the   afternoon,   as  Mrs. 

62 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Mum  ford  was  making  ready  to  go 
out,  the  servant  announced  to  her 
that  a  gentleman  had  called  to  see 
Miss  Derrick;  on  learning  that  Miss 
Derrick  was  away,  he  had  asked  sun- 
dry questions,  and  ended  by  request- 
ing an  interview  with  Mrs.  Mum- 
ford,     His  name  was  Cobb. 

"Show  him  into  the  drawing- 
room,"  said  Emmeline,  a  trifle  agi- 
tated. "I  will  be  down  in  a  few 
minutes." 

Beset  by  anxious  anticipations, 
she  entered  the  room,  and  saw  be- 
fore her  a  figure  not  wholly  unlike 
what  she  had  imagined:  a  wiry,  re- 
solute-looking man,  with  knitted 
brows,  lips  close  set,  and  heavy  feet 
firmly  planted  on  the  carpet.  He 
was  respectably  dressed,  but  nothing 
more,  and  in  his  large  bare  hands 
held  a  brown  hat  marked  with  grease 
spots.  One  would  have  judged  him 
a  skilled  mechanic.  When  he  began 
to  speak,  his  blunt  but  civil  phrases 
were   in  keeping  with  this  impres- 

63 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

sion.  He  had  not  the  tone  of  an 
educated  man,  yet  committedl  no 
vulgar  errors. 

"My  name  is  Cobb.  I  must  beg 
your  pardon  for  troubling  you.  Per- 
haps you  have  heard  of  me  from 
Miss  Derrick?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Cobb,  )^our  name  has 
been  mentioned, ' '  Emmeline  replied, 
nervously.      "Will  you  take  a  seat?" 

"Thank  you,  I  will." 

He  twisted  his  hat  about,  and 
seemed  to  prepare  with  difficulty  the 
next  remark,  which  at  length  burst, 
rather  than  fell,  from  his  lips. 

"I  wanted  to  see  Miss  Derrick.  I 
suppose  she  is  still  living  with  you? 
They  told  me  so." 

A  terrible  man,  thought  Emme- 
line, when  roused  to  anger;  his 
words  must  descend  like  sledge- 
hammers. And  it  would  not  take 
much  to  anger  him.  For  all  that,  he 
had  by  no  means  a  truculent  coun- 
tenance. He  was  trying  to  smile, 
and  his  features  softened  agreeably 

>         64 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

enough.  The  more  closely  she  ob- 
served him,  the  less  grew  Emme- 
line's  wonder  that  Louise  felt  an  in- 
terest in  the  man. 

"Miss  Derrick  is  likely  to  stay 
with  us  for  some  time,  I  believe. 
She  has  only  gone  to  town  to  do  some 
shopping." 

"I  see.  When  I  met  her  last, 
she  talked  a  great  deal  about  you, 
Mrs.  Mumford,  and  that's  why  I 
thought  I  would  ask  to  see  you. 
You  have  a  good  deal  of  influence 
over  her. ' ' 

"Do  you  think  so?"  returned 
Emmeline,  not  displeased.  "I  hope 
I  may  use  it  for  her  good. " 

"So  do  I.  But — well,  it  comes  to 
this,  Mrs.  Mumford.  She  seemed  to 
hint — though  she  didn't  exactly  say 
so — that  you  were  advising  her  to 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  me. 
Of  course  you  don't  know  me,  and 
I've  no  doubt  you  do  what  you  think 
the  best  for  her.  I  should  find  it  a 
kindness  if  you  would  just  tell  me 

^5 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

whether  you  are  really  persuading 
her  to  think  no  more  about  me." 
It  was  an  alarming  challenge. 
Emmeline's  fears  returned;  she  half 
expected  an  outbreak  of  violence. 
The  man  was  growing  very  nervous, 
and  his  muscles  showed  the  working 
of  strong  emotion. 

"I  have  given  her  no  such  advice, 
Mr.  Cobb,"  she  answered,  with  an 
attempt  at  calm  dignity.  "Miss 
Derrick's  private  affairs  don't  at  all 
concern  me.  In  such  matters  as  this, 
she  is  really  quite  old  enough  to 
judge  for  herself. ' ' 

"That's  what  /should  have  said," 
remarked  Mr.  Cobb,  sturdily.  "I 
hope  you'll  excuse  me;  I  don't  wish 
to  make  myself  offensive.  After 
what  she  said  to  me  when  we  met 
last,  I  suppose  most  men  would  just 
let  her  go  her  own  way.  But — but 
somehow  I  can't  do  that.  The  thing 
is,  I  can't  trust  what  she  says;  I 
don't  believe  she  knows  her  own 
mind.     And  so  long  as  you  tell  me 

66 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

that  you're  not  interfering — I  mean, 
that  you  don't  think  it  right  to  set 
her  against  me " 

"I  assure  you,  nothing  of  the 
kind." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  then 
Cobb's  voice  again  sounded  with 
blunt  emphasis. 

"We're  neither  of  us  very  good- 
tempered.  We've  known  each  other 
about  a  year,  and  we  must  have 
quarrelled  about  fifty  times." 

"Do  you  think,  then,"  ventured 
the  hostess,  "that  it  would  ever  be 
possible  for  you  to  live  peacefully 
together?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  was  the  robust  an- 
swer. "It  would  be  a  fight  for  the 
upper  hand,  but  I  know  who'd  get 
it,  and  after  that  things  would  be  all 
right." 

Emmeline  could  not  restrain  a 
laugh,  and  her  visitor  joined  in  it 
with  a  heartiness  which  spoke  in  hi.« 
favour. 

"I  promise  you,  Mr.  Cobb,  that  1 

67 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

will   do   nothing    whatever    against 
your  interests." 

"That's  very  kind  of  you,  and  it's 
all  I  wanted  to  know." 

He  stood  up.  Emmeline,  still 
doubtful  how  to  behave,  asked  him 
if  he  would  call  on  another  day,  when 
Miss  Derrick  might  be  at  home. 

"It's  only  by  chance  I  was  able  to 
get  here  this  afternoon,"  he  replied. 
"I  haven't  much  time  to  go  running 
about  after  her,  and  that's  where 
I'm  at  a  disadvantage.  I  don't 
know  whether  there's  any  one  else, 
and  I'm  not  asking  you  to  tell  me,  if 
you  know.  Of  course,  I  have  to  take 
my  chance;  but  so  long  as  you  don't 
speak  against  me — and  she  thinks 
a  great  deal  of  your  advice " 

"I'm  very  glad  to  be  assured  of 
that.  All  I  shall  do,  Mr.  Cobb,  is 
to  keep  before  her  mind  the  duty  of 
behaving  straightforwardly." 

"That's  the  thing!  Nobody  can 
ask  more  than  that." 

Emmeline  hesitated,  but  could  not 

68 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

dismiss  him  without  shaking  hands. 
That  he  did  not  offer  to  do  so  until 
invited,  though  he  betrayed  no  sense 
of  social  inferiority,  seemed  another 
point  in  his  favour. 


69 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Not  half  an  hour  after  Cobb's  de- 
parture, Louise  returned.  Emme- 
line  was  surprised  to  see  her  back  so 
soon ;  they  met  near  the  railway  sta- 
tion, as  Mrs.  Mumford  was  on  her 
way  to  a  shop  in  High  Street. 

"Isn't  it  good  of  me?  If  I  had 
stayed  longer,  I  should  have  gone 
home,  to  quarrel  with  Cissy;  but  I 
struggled  against  the  temptation. 
Going  to  the  grocer's?  Oh,  do  let 
me  go  with  you,  and  see  how  you  do 
that  kind  of  thing.  I  never  gave 
an  order  at  the  grocer's  in  my  life — 
no,  indeed  I  never  did.  Mother  and 
Cissy  have  always  looked  after  that. 
And  I  want  to  learn  about  house- 
keeping; you  promised  to  teach 
me."  .. 

Emmelirie  mnde  no  mention  of  Mr. 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Cobb's  call,   until  they  reached  the 
house. 

"He  came  here!"  Louise  ex- 
claimed, reddening.  "What  impu- 
dence! I  shall  at  once  write  and  tell 
him  that  his  behaviour  is  outrageous. 
Am  I  to  be  hunted  like  this?" 

Her  wrath  seemed  genuine  enough ; 
but  she  was  vehemently  eager  to 
learn  all  that  had  passed.  Emme- 
line  made  a  truthful  report. 

"You're  quite  sure  that  was  all? 
Oh,  his  impertinence !  Well,  and  now 
that  you've  seen  him,  don't  you  un- 
derstand how — how  impossible  it  is?" 

"I  shall  say  nothing  more  about  it, 
Louise.     It  isn't  my  business  to " 

The  girl's  face  threatened  a  tem- 
pest. As  Emmeline  was  moving 
away  she  rudely  obstructed  her. 

"I  insist  on  you  telling  me  what 
you  think.  It  was  abominable  of 
him  to  come  when  I  wasn't  at  home; 
and  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  have 
seen  him.  You've  no  right  to  keep 
your  thoughts  to  yourself!" 

71 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Mrs.  Mum  ford  was  offended,  and 
showed  it. 

"I  have  a  perfect  right,  and  I  shall 
do  so.  Please  don't  let  us  quarrel. 
You  may  be  fond  of  it,  but  I  am 
not." 

Louise  went  from  the  room,  and 
remained  invisible  till  just  before 
dinner,  when  she  came  down  with  a 
grave  and  rather  haughty  counte- 
nance. To  Mumford's  remarks  she 
replied  with  curt  formality;  he,  pre- 
pared for  this  state  of  things,  began 
conversing  cheerfully  with  his  wife, 
and  Miss  Derrick  kept  silence.  After 
dinner,  she  passed  out  into  the 
garden. 

"It  won't  do,"  said  Mumford. 
"The  house  is  upset.  I'm  afraid 
we  shall  have  to  get  rid  of  her. " 

"If  she  can't  behave  herself,  I'm 
afraid  we  must.  It's  my  fault.  I 
ought  to  have  known  that  it  would 
never  do. " 

At  half  past  ten,  Louise  was  still 
sitting   out  of   doors,    in   the  dark. 

72 


THE  PAYING  GUEST. 

Emmeline,  wishing  to  lock  up  for  the 
night,  went  to  summon  her  trouble- 
some guest. 

"Hadn't  you  better  come  in?" 

"Yes.  But  I  think  you  are  very 
unkind,  Mrs.  Mumford." 

"Miss  Derrick,  I  really  can't  do 
anything  but  leave  you  alone,  when 
you  are  in  such  an  unpleasant 
humour." 

"But  that's  just  what  you  oughtn't 
to  do.  When  I'm  left  alone,  I  sulk, 
and  that's  bad  for  all  of  us.  If  you 
would  just  get  angry  and  give  me 
what  I  deserve,  it  would  all  be  over 
very  soon. " 

"You  are  always  talking  about 
'nice'  people.  Nice  people  don't 
have  scenes  of  that  kind.  " 

"No,  I  suppose  not.  And  I'm  very 
sorry,  and  if  you'll  let  me  beg  your 
pardon — —  There,  and  we  might 
have  made  it  up  hours  ago.  I  won't 
ask  you  to  tell  me  what  you  think  of 
Mr.  Cobb.  I've  written  him  the  kind 
of  letter  his  impudence  deserves." 

73 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"Very  well.  We  won't  talk  of  it 
any  more.  And  if  you  could  be  a 
little  quieter  in  your  manners, 
Louise." 

"I  will,  I  promise  I  will!  Let  me 
say  good-night  to  Mr.  Mumford.  " 

For  a  day  or  two  there  was  halcyon 
weather.  On  Saturday  afternoon, 
Louise  hired  a  carriage,  and  took 
her  friends  for  a  drive  into  the  coun- 
try; at  her  special  request  the  child 
accompanied  them.  Nothing  could 
have  been  more  delightful.  »She  had 
quite  made  up  her  mind  to  have  a 
house,  some  day,  at  Sutton.  She 
hoped  theMumfords  would  "always" 
live  there,  that  they  might  perpetu- 
ally enjoy  each  other's  society. 
What  were  the  rents?  she  inquired. 
Well,  to  begin  with,  she  would  be 
content  with  one  of  the  smaller 
houses;  a  modest,  semi-detached 
little  place,  like  those  at  the  far  end 
of  Cedar  Road.  They  were  perfectly 
respectable,  were  they  not?  How 
this   change   in    her   station  was  to 

•    74 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

come  about,  Louise  offered  no  hint, 
and  did  not  seem  to  think  of  the 
matter. 

Then  restlessness  again  came  upon 
her.  One  day  she  all  but  declared 
her  disappointment  that  the  Mum- 
fords  saw  so  few  people.  Emmeline, 
reporting  this  to  her  husband, 
aroused  a  certain  compunction. 

"I  almost  feel  that  I  deliberately 
misled  her.  You  know,  Clarence, 
in  our  first  conversation  I  mentioned 
the  Kirby-Simpsons  and  Mrs.  Rol- 
lings, and  I  feel  sure  she  remembers. 
It  wouldn't  be  nice  to  be  taking  her 
money  on  false  pretences,  would  it?" 

"Oh,  don't  trouble.  It's  quite  cer- 
tain she  has  some  one  in  mind  whom 
she  means  to  marry  before  long." 

"I  can't  help  thinking  that.  But 
I  don't  know  who  it  can  be.  She 
had  a  letter  this  morning  in  a  man's 
writing,  and  didn't  speak  of  it.  It 
wasn't  Mr.  Cobb." 

Louise  next  day  put  a  point-blank 
question. 

75 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"Didn't  you  say  that  you  knew 
some  people  at  West   Kensington?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  answered  Einmeline, 
carelessly.  "The  Kirby-Simpsons. 
They're  away  from  home." 

"I'm  sorry  for  that.  Isn't  there 
any  one  else  we  could  go  and  see,  or 
ask  over  here?" 

"I  think  it  very  likely  that  Mr. 
Bilton  will  come  down  in  a  few 
days." 

Louise  received  Mr.  Bilton 's  name 
with  moderate  interest.  But  she 
dropped  the  subject,  and  seemed  to 
reconcile  herself  to  domestic  pleas- 
ures. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  this  day 
that  Emmeline  received  a  letter 
which  gave  her  much  annoyance. 
Her  sister,  Mrs.  Grove,  wrote  thus: 

"How  news  does  get  about!  And 
what  ridiculous  forms  it  takes! 
Here's  Mrs.  Powell  writing  to  me 
from  Birmingham,  and  she  says  that 
she  has  heard  that  you  have  taken  in 
the  daughter  of  some  wealthy  par- 

.      76 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

vemi^  for  a  consideration,  to  train 
her  in  the  ways  of  decent  society! 
Just  the  kind  of  thing  that  Mrs. 
Powell  would  delight  in  talking 
about — she  is  so  verv  malicious. 
Where  she  got  her  information  I 
can't  imagine.  She  doesn't  give  the 
slightest  hint.  'They  tell  me'— I 
copy  her  words — 'that  the  girl  is  all 
but  a  savage,  and  does  and  says  the 
most  awful  things.  I  quite  admire 
Mrs.  Mumford's  courage.  I've  heard 
of  people  doing  this  kind  of  thing, 
and  I  always  wondered  how  they  got 
on  with  their  friends.'  Of  course,  I 
have  written  to  contradict  this  rub- 
bish. But  it's  very  annoying,  I'm 
sure. " 

Mum  ford  was  angry.  The  source 
of  these  fables  must  be  either  Bilton 
or  Dunnill,  yet  he  had  not  thought 
either  of  them  the  kind  of  men  to 
make  mischief.  Who  else  knew  any- 
thing of  the  affair?  Searching  her 
memory,  Emmeline  recalled  a  person 
unknown  to  her,  a  married  lady,  who 

77 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

had  dropped  in  at  Mrs.  Grove's  when 
she  and  Louise  Vv'ere  there. 

"I  didn't  like  her — a  supercilious 
sort  of  person.  And  she  talked  a 
great  deal  of  her  acquaintance  with 
important  people.  It  is  far  more 
likely  to  have  come  from  her  than 
from  either  of  those  men.  I  shall 
write  and  tell  Molly  so." 

They  began  to  feel  uncomfortable, 
and  seriously  thought  of  getting  rid 
of  the  burden  so  imprudently  imder- 
taken.  Louise,  the  next  day,  wanted 
to  take  Emmeline  to  town,  and 
showed  dissatisfaction  when  she  had 
to  go  unaccompanied.  She  stayed 
till  late  in  the  evening,  and  came 
back  with  a  gay  account  of  her  calls 
upon  two  or  three  old  friends — ^the 
girls  of  whom  she  had  spoken  to  Mrs. 
Mumford.  One  of  them,  Miss  Feath- 
erstone,  she  had  taken  to  dine  with 
her  at  a  restaurant,  and  afterwards 
they  had  spent  an  hour  or  two  at 
Miss  Eeatherstone's  lodgings. 

"I  didn't  go  near  Battersea  Rise, 

'       78 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

and  if  you  knew  how  I  am  wondering 
what's  going  on  there!  Not  a  line 
from  any  one.  I  shall  write  to  mother 
to-morrow." 

Emmeline  produced  a  letter  which 
had  arrived  for  Miss  Derrick. 

"Why  didn't  you  give  it  me  be- 
fore?" Louise  exclaimed,  impa- 
tiently. 

"My  dear,  you  had  so  much  to  tell 
me.     I  waited  for  the  first  pause." 

"That  isn't  from  home,"  said  the 
girl,  after  a  glance  at  the  envelope. 
"It's  nothing." 

After  saying  good-night,  she  called 
to  Emmeline  from  her  bedroom  door. 
Entering  the  room,  Mrs.  Mumford 
saw  the  open  letter  in  Louise's  hand, 
and  read  in  her  face  a  desire  of  con- 
fession. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  something. 
Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  just  a  few  min- 
utes. This  letter  is  from  Mr.  Bowl- 
ing. Yes,  and  I've  had  one  from 
him  before,  and  I  was  obliged  to 
answer  it." 

79 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"Do  you  mean  they  are  love-let- 
ters?" 

"Yes,  I'm  afraid  they  are.  And 
it's  so  stupid,  and  I'm  so  vexed.  I 
don't  want  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  him,  as  I  told  you  long  ago." 
Louise  often  used  expressions  which 
to  a  stranger  would  have  implied 
that  her  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Mum- 
ford  was  of  years'  standing.  "He 
wrote  for  the  first  time  last 
week.  Such  a  silly  letter,  I  wish 
you  would  read  it.  Well,  he 
said  that  it  was  all  over  be- 
tween him  and  Cissy,  and  that 
he  cared  only  for  me,  and  always 
would — you  know  how  men  write. 
He  said  he  considered  himself  quite 
free.  Cissy  had  refused  him,  and 
wasn't  that  enough?  Now  that  I 
was  away  from  home,  he  could  write 
to  me,  and  wouldn't  I  let  him  see 
me?  Of  course  I  wrote  that  I  didn't 
want  to  see  him,  and  I  thought  he 
was  behaving  very  badly — though  I 
don't  really  think  so,  because  it's  all 

80 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

that  idiot  Cissy's  fault.     Didn't  I  do 
quite  right?" 

"I  think  so." 

"Very  well.  And  now  he's  writ- 
ing again,  you  see;  oh,  such  a  lot  of 
rubbish!  I  can  hear  him  saying  it, 
all  through  his  nose.  Do  tell  me 
what  I  ought  to  do  next. " 

"You  must  either  pay  no  attention 
to  the  letter,  or  reply  so  that  he  can't 
possibly  misunderstand  you." 

"Call  him  names,  you  mean?" 

"My  dear  Louise!" 

"But  that's  the  only  way  with  such 
men.  I  suppose  you  never  were 
bothered  with  them.  I  think  I'd 
better  not  write  at  all." 

Emmeline  approved  this  course, 
and  soon  left  Miss  Derrick  to  her  re- 
flections. 

The  next  day,  Louise  carried  out 
her  resolve  to  write  for  information 
regarding  the  progress  of  things  at 
Coburg  Lodge.  She  had  not  long  to 
wait  for  a  reply,  and  it  was  of  so 
startling  a  nature   that   she   ran  at 

8t 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

once  to  Mrs.  Mumford,  whom  she 
found  in  the  nursery. 

"Do  please  come  down.  Here's 
something  I  must  tell  you  about. 
What  do  you  think  mother  says? 
I've  to  go  back  home  again,  at 
once." 

"What's  the  reason?"  Emmeline 
inquired,  knowing  not  whether  to  be 
glad  or  sorry. 

"I'll  read  it  to  you.  'Dear  Lou,' 
she  says,  'you've  made  a  great  deal 
of  trouble,  and  I  hope  you're  satis- 
fied. Things  are  all  upside  down,  and 
I've  never  seen  dada' — that's  Mr. 
Higgins,  of  course — 'I've  never  seen 
dada  in  such  a  bad  temper  not  since 
first  I  knew  him.  Mr.  B. ' — that's 
Mr.  Bowling,  you  know — 'has  told 
him  plain  that  he  doesn't  think  any 
more  of  Cissy,  and  that  nothing 
mustn't  be  expected  of  him.*  Oh, 
what  sweet  letters  mother  does  write. 
'That  was  when  dada  went  and 
asked  him  about  his  intentions,  as 
he  couldn't  help  doing,  because  Cissy 

82 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

was  fretting  so.  It's  all  over,  and  of 
course  you're  the  cause  of  it,  and 
though  I  can't  blame  you  as  much  as 
the  others  do,  I  think  you  are  to 
blame.  And  Cissy  said  she  must  go 
to  the  sea-side  to  get  over  it,  and  she 
went  off  yesterday  to  Ramsgate  to 
your  Aunt  Annie's  boarding  house, 
and  there  she  says  she  shall  stay  as 
long  as  she  doesn't  feel  quite  well, 
and  dada  has  to  pay  two  guineas  a 
week  for  her.  So  he  says  at  once, 
"Now  Lou'll  have  to  come  back.  I'm 
not  going  to  pay  for  the  both  of 
them  boarding  out,"  he  says.  And 
he  means  it.  He  has  told  me  to  write 
to  you  at  once,  and  you're  to  come 
as  soon  as  you  can,  and  he  won't  be 
responsible  to  Mrs.  Mum  ford  for 
more  than  another  week's  payment.' 
There!  But  I  shan't  go  for  all  that. 
The  idea!  I  left  home  just  to  please 
them,  and  now  I'm  to  go  back  just 
when  it  suits  their  convenience. 
Certainly  not." 

"But  what  will  you  do,  Louise," 

83 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

asked  Mrs.  Mumford,  "if  Mr.  Hig- 
gins  is  quite  determined?" 

"Do?  Oh,  I  shall  settle  it  easily 
enough.  I  shall  write  at  once  to  the 
old  man,  and  tell  him  I'm  getting  on 
so  nicely  in  every  way  that  I  couldn't 
dream  of  leaving  you.  It's  all  non- 
sense, you'll  see. " 

Emmeline  and  her  husband  held  a 
council  that  night,  and  resolved  that, 
whatever  the  issue  of  Louise's  appeal 
to  her  father,  this  was  a  very  good 
opportunity  for  getting  rid  of  their 
guest.  They  would  wait  till  Louise 
made  known  the  upshot  of  her  nego- 
tiations. It. seemed  probable  that 
Mr.  Higgins  would  spare  them  the 
unpleasantness  of  telling  Miss  Der- 
rick she  must  leave.  If  not,  that 
disagreeable  necessity  must  be  faced. 

"I  had  rather  cut  down  expenses 
all  round,"  said  Emmeline,  "than 
have  our  home  upset  in  this  way. 
It  isn't  like  home  at  all.  Louise  is 
a  whirlwind,  and  the  longer  she 
stays,  the  worse  it'll  be." 

84 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"Yes,  it  won't  do  at  all,"  Mum- 
ford  assented.  "By  the  way,  I  met 
Bilton  to-day,  and  he  asked  after 
Miss  Derrick.  I  didn't  like  his  look 
or  his  tone  at  all.  I  feel  quite  sure 
there's  a  joke  going  round  at  our  ex- 
pense.    Confound  it!" 

"Never  mind.  It'll  be  over  in  a 
day  or  two,  and — it'll  be  a  lesson  to 
you,  Clarence,  won't  it?" 

"I  quite  admit  that  the  idea  was 
mine,"  her  husband  replied,  rather 
irritably.  "But  it  wasn't  I  who  ac- 
cepted the  girl  as  a  suitable  person." 

"And  certainly  it  wasn't  me!''  re- 
joined Emmeline.  "You  will  please 
to  remember  that  I  said  again  and 
again " 

"Oh,  hang  it,  Emmy!  We  made 
a  blunder,  both  of  us,  and  don't  let 
us  make  it  worse  by  wrangling  about 
it.  There  you  are;  people  of  that 
class  bring  infection  into  the  house. 
If  she  stayed  here  a  twelvemonth, 
we  should  have  got  to  throwing 
things  at  each  other." 

85 


1 

I 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

The  answer  to  Louise's  letter  of 
remonstrance  came  in  the  form  of 
Mrs,  Higgins  herself.  Shortly  be- 
fore luncheon,  that  lady  drove  up  to 
"Runnymede"  in  a  cab,  and  her 
daughter,  who  had  just  returned  from 
a  walk,  was  startled  to  hear  of  the 
arrival. 

"You've  got  to  come  home  with 
me,  Lou,"  Mrs.  Higgins  began,  as 
she  wiped  her  perspiring  face.  "I've 
promised  to  have  you  back  by  this 
afternoon.  Dada's  right  down  an- 
gry; you  wouldn't  know  him.  He 
blamed  everything  on  to  you,  and 
you'd  better  just  come  home  quiet." 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind," 
answered  Louise,  her  temper  rising. 

Mrs.  Higgins  glared  at  her,  and 
began  to  rail;  the  voice  was  pain- 
fully audible  to  Emmeline,  who  just 
then  passed  through  the  hall.  Miss 
Derrick  gave  as  good  as  she  received ; 
a  battle  raged  for  some  minutes,  dif- 
fering from  many  a  former  conflict 
only  in  the  slight  moderation  of  pitch 

86 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

and   vocabulary  due  to  their  being 
in  a  stranger's  house. 

"Then  you  won't  come?"  cried 
the  mother,  at  length.  "I've  had 
my  journey  for  nothing,  have  I  ? 
Then  just  go  and  fetch  Mrs.  What's- 
her-name.  She  must  hear  what  I've 
got  to  say." 

"Mrs.  Mumford  isn't  at  home," 
answered  Louise,  with  bold  mendac- 
ity. "And  a  very  good  thing,  too. 
I  should  be  sorry  for  her  to  see  you 
in  the  state  you're  in." 

"I'm  in  no  more  of  a  state  than 
you  are,  Louise!  And  just  you  listen 
to  this.  Not  one  farthing  more  will 
you  have  from  'ome — not  one  farth- 
ing! And  you  may  think  yourself 
lucky  if  you  still  'ave  a  'ome.  For 
all  I  know,  you'll  have  to  earn  your 
own  living,  and  I'd  like  to  hear  how 
you  mean  to  do  it.  As  soon  as  I  get 
back,  I  shall  write  to  Mrs.  What's- 
her-name,  and  tell  her  that  nothing 
will  be  paid  for  you  after  the  week 
that's  due,  and  the  week  that's  for 

57 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

notice.  Now  just  take  heed  of  what 
you're  doing,  Lou.  It  may  have 
more  serious  results  than  what  you 
think  for." 

"I've  thought  all  I'm  going  to 
think,"  replied  the  girl.  "I  shall 
sta)''  here  as  long  as  I  like,  and  be 
indebted  neither  to  you  nor  to  step- 
father." 

Mrs  Mumford  breathed  a  sigh  of 
thankfulness  that  she  was  not  called 
upon  to  take  part  in  this  scene.  It 
was  bad  enough  that  the  servant  en- 
gaged in  laying  lunch  could  hear  dis- 
tinctly Mrs.  Higgins'  coarse  and  vio- 
lent onslaught.  When  the  front 
door  at  length  closed,  she  rejoiced, 
but  with  trembling;  for  the  words 
that  fell  upon  her  ears  from  the  hall 
announced  too  plainly  that  Louise 
was  determined  to  stay. 


88 


CHAPTER  V. 

Miss  Derrick  had  gone  back  into 
the  drawing-room,  and,  to  Emme- 
line's  surprise,  remained  there.  This 
retirement  was  ominous:  the  girl 
must  be  taking  a  resolve.  Emme- 
line,  on  her  part,  braced  her  courage 
for  the  step  on  which  she  had  de- 
cided. Luncheon  awaited  them,  but 
it  would  be  much  better  to  arrive  at 
an  understanding  before  they  sat 
down  to  the  meal.  She  entered  the 
room,  and  found  Louise  leaning  on 
the  back  of  a  chair. 

"I  dare  say  you  heard  the  row," 
Miss  Derrick  remarked,  coldly.  "I'm 
very  sorry,  but  nothing  of  that  kind 
shall  happen  again." 

Her  countenance  was  disturbed; 
she  seemed  to  be  putting  a  restraint 
upon  herself,  and  only  with  great 
efforts  to  subdue  her  voice. 

89 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 
asked  Emmeline,  in  a  friendly  tone; 
but,  as  it  were,  from  a  distance. 

"I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  do  me 
a  great  kindness,  Mrs.  Mumford.  " 

There  was  no  reply.  The  girl 
paused  a  moment,  then  resumed  im- 
pulsively. 

"Mr.  Higgins  says  that  if  I  don't 
come  home,  he  won't  let  me  have 
any  more  money.  They're  going  to 
write  and  tell  you  that  they  won't  be 
responsible  after  this  for  my  board 
and  lodging.  Of  course,  I  shall  not 
go  home;  I  shouldn't  dream  of  it; 
I'd  rather  earn  my  living  as — as  a 
scullery-maid.  I  want  to  ask  you, 
Mrs.  Mumford,  whether  you  will  let 
me  stay  on,  and  trust  me  to  pay 
what  I  owe  you.  It  won't  be  for 
very  long,  and  I  promise  you  I  will 
pay,  every  penny," 

The  natural  impulse  of  Emmeline's 
disposition  was  to  reply  with  hospi- 
table kindliness;  she  found  it  very 
difficult  to    maintain    her  purpose; 

.      9° 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

it  shamed  her  to  behave  like  the  or- 
dinary landlady,  to  appear  actuated 
by  mean  motives.  But  the  domestic 
strain  was  growing  intolerable,  and 
she  felt  sure  that  Clarence  would  be 
exasperated  if  her  weakness  pro- 
longed it. 

"Now,  do  let  me  advise  you, 
Louise,"  she  answered,  gently. 
"Are  you  acting  wisely?  Wouldn't 
it  be  very  much  better  to  go 
home?" 

Louise  lost  all  her  self-control. 
Flushed  with  anger,  her  eyes  glar- 
ing, she  broke  into  vehement  excla- 
mations. 

"You  want  to  get  rid  of  me!  Very 
well,  I'll  go  this  moment.  I  was 
going  to  tell  you  something:  but 
you  don't  care  what  becomes  of  me. 
I'll  send  for  my  luggage;  you  shan't 
be  troubled  with  it  long.  And  you'll 
be  paid  all  that's  owing.  I  didn't 
think  you  were  cne  of  that  kind.  I'll 
go  this  minute!" 

"Just  as  you  please,"  said  Emme- 

91 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

line.     "Your    temper    is    really    so 
very ' ' 

"Oh,  I  know.  It's  always  my 
temper,  and  nobody  else  is  ever  to 
blame.  I  wouldn't  stay  another 
night  in  the  house  if  I  had  to  sleep 
on  the  downs!" 

She  flung  out  of  the  room,  and 
flew  upstairs.  Emmeline,  angered 
by  this  unwarrantable  treatment,  de- 
termined to  hold  aloof,  and  let  the 
girl  do  as  she  would.  Miss  Derrick 
was  of  full  age,  and  quite  capable  of 
taking  care  of  herself  —  or  at  all 
events,  ought  to  be.  Perhaps  this 
was  the  only  possible  issue  of  the 
difficulties  in  which  they  had  all  be- 
come involved;  neither  Louise  nor 
her  parents  could  be  dealt  with  in 
the  rational,  peaceful  way  preferred 
by  well-conditioned  people.  To  get 
her  out  of  the  house  was  the  main 
point;  if  she  chose  to  depart  in  a 
whirlwind,  that  was  her  own  affair. 
All  but  certainly  she  would  go  home, 
to-morrow  if  not  to-day. 

92 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
her  step  sounded  on  the  stairs. 
Would  she  turn  into  the  dining- 
room,  where  Emmelire  now  sat  at 
table?  No;  straight  through  the 
hall,  and  out  at  the  front  door,  which 
closed,  however,  quite  softly  behind 
her.  That  she  did  not  slam  it  seemed 
wonderful  to  Emmeline.  The  girl 
was  not  wholly  a  savage. 

Presently  Mrs.  Mumford  went  up 
to  inspect  the  forsaken  chamber. 
Louise  had  packed  all  her  things;  of 
course,  she  must  have  tumbled  them 
recklessly  into  the  trunks.  The 
drawers  were  left  open,  as  if  to  ex- 
hibit their  emptiness,  but  in  other 
respects  the  room  looked  tidy  enough. 
Neatness  and  order  came  bv  no  means 
naturally  to  Miss  Derrick,  and  Em- 
meline did  not  know  what  pains  the 
girl  had  taken,  ever  since  her  arrival, 
to  live  in  conformity  with  the  habits 
of  a  "nice"  household. 

Louise    meanwhile     had    gone   to 
the  railway  station,  intending  to  take 

93 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

a  ticket  for  Victoria.  But  half  an 
hour  must  elapse  before  the  arrival 
of  a  train,  and  she  walked  about  in 
an  irresolute  mood.  For  one  thing, 
she  felt  hungry;  at  Sutton  her  ap- 
petite had  been  keen,  and  meal-times 
were  always  welcome.  She  remem- 
bered the  refreshment  room,  and 
with  inward  murmurs  made  a  repast 
which  reminded  her  of  the  excellent 
luncheon  she  might  now  have  been 
enjoying.  All  the  time,  she  pon- 
dered her  situation.  Ultimately,  in- 
stead of  booking  for  Victoria,  she 
procured  a  ticket  for  Ep.som  Downs, 
and  had  not  long  to  wait  for  the 
train. 

It  was  a  hot  day  at  the  end  of 
June.  Wafts  of  breezy  coolness 
passed  now  and  then  over  the  high 
open  country,  but  did  not  suffice  to 
combat  the  sun's  steady  glare;  after 
walking  for  half  a  mile  or  so,  ab- 
sorbed in  thought,  Louise  suffered 
so  much  that  she  looked  about  for 
shadow.     Before  her  was  the  tower- 

* 

94 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

ing  ugliness  of  the  Grand  Stand; 
this  she  had  seen  and  admired  when 
driving  past  it  with  her  friends;  it 
did  not  now  attract  her.  In  another 
direction  the  downs  were  edged  with 
trees,  and  that  way  she  turned.  All 
but  overcome  with  heat  and  weari- 
ness, she  at  length  found  a  shaded 
spot  where  her  solitude  seemed  se- 
cure, and  after  seating  herself,  the 
first  thing  she  did  was  to  have  a  good 
cry. 

Then,  for  an  hour,  she  sat  think- 
ing; and,  as  she  thought,  her  face 
gradually  emerged  from  gloom — the 
better,  truer  face,  which  so  often 
allowed  itself  to  be  disguised  at  the 
prompting  of  an  evil  spirit;  her 
softening  lips  all  but  smiled,  as  if  at 
an  amusing  suggestion,  and  her 
eyes,  in  their  reverie,  seemed  to  be- 
hold a  pleasant  promise.  Uncon- 
sciously, she  plucked  and  tasted  the 
sweet  stems  of  grass  that  grew  about 
her.  At  length,  the  sun's  move- 
ments having  robbed  her  of  shadow, 

95 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

she  rose,  looked  at  her  watch,  and 
glanced  around  for  another  retreat. 
Hard  by  was  a  little  wood,  delight- 
fully grassy  and  cool,  fenced  about 
with  railings  she  could  easily  have 
climbed ;  but  a  notice  board,  severely 
admonishing  trespassers,  forbade  the 
attempt.  With  a  petulant  remark  to 
herself  on  the  selfishness  of  "those 
people,"  she  sauntered  past. 

Along  the  edge  of  the  downs 
stands  a  picturesque  row  of  pine 
trees,  stunted,  battered  and  twisted, 
through  many  a  winter,  by  the  up- 
land gales.  Louise  noticed  them 
only  to  think  for  a  moment  what 
ugly  trees  they  were.  Before  her, 
east,  west  and  north,  lay  the  wooded 
landscape,  soft  of  hue  beneath  the 
summer  sky,  spreading  its  tranquil 
beauty  far  away  to  the  mists  of  the 
horizon.  In  vivacious  company,  she 
would  have  called  it,  and  perhaps 
have  thought  it,  a  charming  view; 
alone,  she  had  no  eye  for  such  things 
— an     indifference   characteristic   of 

96 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

her  mind,  and  not  at  all  dependent 
upon  its  mood.  Presently  another 
patch  of  shade  invited  her  to  repose 
again,  and  again  she  meditated  for 
an  hour  or  more. 

The  sun  had  grown  less  ardent, 
and  a  breeze,  no  longer  fitful,  made 
walking  pleasant.  The  sight  of  holi- 
day-making school-children,  who,  in 
their  ribboned  hats  and  white  pina- 
fores, were  having  tea  not  far 
away,  suggested  to  Louise  that  she 
also  would  like  such  refreshment. 
Doubtless  it  might  be  procured  at 
the  inn  yonder,  near  the  race- course, 
and  thither  she  began  to  move.  Her 
thoughts  were  now  at  rest;  she  had 
made  her  plan  for  the  evening;  all 
that  had  to  be  done  was  to  kill  time 
tor  another  hour  or  so.  Walking 
lightly  over  the  turf,  she  noticed 
the  chalk-marks  significant  of  golf, 
and  wondered  how  the  game  was 
played.  Without  difficulty  she  ob- 
tained her  cup  of  tea,  loitered  over 
it  as  long  as   possible,  strayed  yet 

97 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

awhile  about  the  downs,  and  towards 
half  past  six  made  for  the  railway 
station. 

She  travelled  no  further  than  Sut- 
ton, and  there  lingered  in  the  wait- 
ing room  till  the  arrival  of  a  certain 
train  from  London  Bridge.  As  the 
train  came  in,  she  took  up  a  position 
near  the  exit.  Among  the  people 
who  alighted,  her  eye  soon  per- 
ceived Clarence  Mumford  ;  she 
stepped  up  to  him,  and  drew  his 
attention. 

"Oh,  have  you  come  by  the  same 
train?"  he  asked,  shaking  hands 
with  her. 

''No,  I've  been  waiting  here,  be- 
cause I  wanted  to  see  you,  Mr.  Mum- 
ford.  Will  you  spare  me  a  minute 
or  two?" 

''Here?     In  the  station?" 

"Please — if  you  don't  mind." 

Astonished,  Mumford  drew  aside 

with  her,  to  a  quiet  part  of  the  long 

platform.      Louise,   keeping  a  very 

grave  countenance,  told  him  rapidly 

98 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

all  that  had  befallen  since  his  depart- 
ure from  home  this  morning. 

"I  behaved  horribly,  and  I  was 
sorry  for  it  as  soon  as  I  had  left  the 
house.  After  all  Mrs.  Mumford's 
kindness  to  me,  and  yours— I  don't 
know  how  I  could  be  so  horrid.  But 
the  quarrel  with  mother  had  upset 
me  so,  and  I  felt  so  miserable  when 
Mrs.  Mumford  seemed  to  want  to 
get  rid  of  me.  I  feel  sure  she  didn't 
really  want  to  send  me  away:  she 
was  only  advising  me,  as  she  thought, 
for  my  good.  But  I  can't  and  won't 
go  home.  And  I've  been  waiting  all 
the  afternoon  to  see  you.  No,  not 
here.  I  went  to  Epsom  Downs,  and 
walked  about,  and  then  came  back 
just  in  time.  And — do  you  think  I 
might  go  back?  I  don't  mean  now, 
at  once — but  this  evening,  after 
you've  had  dinner?  I  really  don't 
know  where  to  go  for  the  night,  and 
it's  such  a  stupid  position  to  be  in, 
isn't  it?" 

With  perfect  naivete,  or  with  per- 

99 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

feet  simulation  of  it,  she  looked  him 
in  the  face,  and  it  was  Mumford  who 
had  to  avert  his  eyes.  The  young 
man  felt  very  uncomfortable. 

"Oh,  I'm  quite  sure  Emmy  will 
be  glad  to  let  you  come  for  the  night, 
]\Iiss  Derrick." 

"Yes,  but — Mr.  Mumford,  I  want 
to  stay  longer — a  few  weeks  longer. 
Do  you  think  Mrs.  Mumford  would 
forgive  me?  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  what  to  do,  and  I  ought  to 
have  told  her.  I  should  have,  if  I 
hadn't  lost  my  temper." 

"Well,"  replied  the  other,  in  grave 
embarrassment,,  but  feeling  that  he 
had  no  alternative,  "let  us  go  to  the 
house " 

"Oh,  I  couldn't!  I  shouldn't  like- 
any  one  to  know  that  I  spoke  to  you 
about  it.  It  wouldn't  be  nice,  would 
it?  I  thought  if  I  came  later,  after 
dinner.  And  perhaps  you  could  talk 
to  Mrs.  Mumford  and — and  prepare 
her.  I  mean,  perhap-s  you  wouldn't 
mind  saying  you  were  sorry  I  had 

•     lOO 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

gone  so  suddenly.  And  then  perhaps 
Mrs.  Mumford — she's  so  kind — 
would  say  she  was  sorry  too.  And 
then — I  might  come  into  the  garden 
and  find  you  both  sitting  there " 

Mumford,  despite  his  most  uneasy 
frame  of  mind,  betrayed  a  passing 
amusement.  He  looked  into  the 
girl's  face,  and  saw  its  prettiness 
flush  with  pretty  confusion;  and 
this  did  not  tend  to  restore  his  tran- 
quillit} . 

"What  shall  you  do  in  the  mean- 
time?" 

"Oh,  go  into  the  town,  and  have 
something  to  eat,  and  then  walk 
about." 

'*You  must  be  dreadfully  tired 
already." 

"Just  a  little;  but  I  don't  mind. 
It  serves  me  right.  I  shall  be  so 
grateful  to  you,  Mr.  Mumford.  If 
you  won't  let  me  come,  I  suppose  I 
must  go  to  London,  and  ask  one  of 
mv  friends  to  take  me  in." 

"I   will  arrange  it.     Come  about 

lOI 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

half  past  eight.  We  shall  be  in  the 
garden  by  then." 

Avoiding  her  look  he  moved  away, 
and  ran  up  the  stairs.  But  from  the 
exit  of  the  station  he  walked  slowly. 
in  part  to  calm  himself,  to  assume 
his  ordinary  appearance,  and  in  part 
to  think  over  the  comedy  he  was 
going  to  play. 

Emmeline  met  him  at  the  door, 
herself  too  much  flurried  to  notice 
anything  peculiar  in  her  husband's 
aspect.  She  repeated  the  story 
with  which  he  was  already  ac- 
quainted. 

"And  really,  after  all,  I  am  so 
glad,"  was  her  conclusion.  "I 
didn't  think  she  had  really  gone;  all 
the  afternoon  I've  been  expecting  to 
see  her  back  again.  But  she  won't 
come  now,  and  it  is  a  good  thing  to 
have  done  with  the  wretched  busi- 
ness. I  only  hope  she  will  tell  the 
truth  to  her  people.  She  might  say 
that  we  turned  her  out  of  the  house. 
But  I  don't  think  so — in  s-pite  of  all 

1-02 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

her  faults,  she  never  seemed  deceit- 
ful or  malicious." 

Mumford  was  strongly  tempted  to 
reveal  what  had  happened  at  the 
station.  But  he  saw  danger  alike  in 
disclosure  and  in  reticence.  When 
there  enters  the  slightest  possibilitj'' 
of  jealousy,  a  man  can  never  be  sure 
that  his  wife  will  act  as  a  rational 
being.  He  feared  to  tell  the  simple 
truth,  lest  Emmeline  should  not  be- 
lieve his  innocence  of  previous  plot- 
ting with  Miss  Derrick,  or  at  all 
events,  should  be  irritated  bv  the 
circumstances  into  refusing  Louise  a 
lodging  for  the  night.  And  with  no 
less  apprehension  he  decided  at 
length  to  keep  the  secret,  which 
might  so  easily  become  known  here- 
after, and  would  then  have  such  dis- 
agreeable consequences. 

"Well,  let  us  have  dinner,  Emmy; 
I'm  an-hungered.  Yes,  it's  a  good 
thing  she  has  gone;  but  I  wish  it 
hadn't  happened  in  that  way.  What 
a  spitfire  she  is  I" 

103 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

' '  I  never,  never  saw  the  like.  And 
if  you  had  heard  Mrs.  Higgins!  Oh, 
what  dreadful  people!  Clarence, 
hear  me  register  a  vow " 

"It  was  my  fault,  dear.  I'm  aw- 
fully sorry  I  got  you  in  for  such 
horrors.  It  was  wholly  and  entirely 
my  fault." 

By  due  insistence  on  this,  Mum- 
ford,  of  course,  put  his  wife  into  an 
excellent  humour,  and,  after  they  had 
dined,  she  returned  to  her  regret 
that  the  girl  should  have  gone  so 
suddenly.  Clarence,  declaring  that 
he  would  allow  himself  a  cigar,  in- 
stead of  the  usual  pipe,  to  celebrate 
the  restoration  of  domestic  peace, 
soon  led  Emmeline  into  the  garden. 

' '  Heavens !  How  hot  it  has  been  I 
Eighty-five  in  our  office  at  noon — 
eighty-five!  Fellows  are  discarding 
waistcoats,  and  wearing  what  they 
call  a  cummerbund-silk  sash  round 
the  waist.  I  think  I  must  follow 
the  fashion.  How  should  I  look,  do 
you  think?" 

*   104 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"You  don't  really  mind  that  we 
lose  the  money?"  Emmeline  asked, 
presently. 

"Pooh!  We  shall  do  well  enough. 
Who's  that?" 

Some  one  was  entering  the  garden 
by  the  side  path.  And  in  a  moment 
there  remained  no  doubt  who  the 
person  was.  Louise  came  forward, 
her  head  bent,  her  features  eloquent 
of  fatigue  and  distress. 

"Mrs.  Mumford — I  couldn't — with- 
out asking  you  to  forgive  me " 

Her  voice  broke  with  a  sob.  She 
stood  in  a  humble  attitude,  and  Em- 
meline, although  pierced  with  vexa- 
tion, had  no  choice  but  to  hold  out  a 
welcoming  hand. 

"Have  you  come  all  the  way  back 
from  London  just  to  say  this?" 

"I  haven't  been  to  London.  I've 
walked  about — all  day — -and  oh,  I'm 
so  tired  and  miserable.  Will  vou 
let  me  stay,  just  for  to-night?  I 
shall  be  so  grateful." 

"Of   course   you    may   stay,   ^liss 

105 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Derrick.  It  was  very  far  from  my 
wish  to  see  you  go  off  at  a  moment's 
notice.  But  I  really  couldn't  stop 
you." 

Mumford  had  stepped  aside,  out  of 
hearing.  He  forgot  his  private  em- 
barrassment in  speculation  as  to  the 
young  woman's  character.  That  she 
was  acting  distress  and  penitence  he 
could  hardly  believe;  indeed  there 
was  no  necessity  to  accuse  her  of  dis- 
honest behaviour.  The  trivial  con- 
cealment between  him  and  her 
amounted  to  nothing,  did  not  alter 
the  facts  of  the  situation.  But  what 
could  be  at  theroot  of  her  seemingly 
so  foolish  existence  ?  Emmeline  held 
to  the  view  that  she  was  in  love  with 
the  man  Cobb,  though  perhaps  un- 
willing to  admit  it  even  in  her  own 
silly  mind.  It  might  be  so,  and  if 
so,  it  made  her  more  interesting;  for 
one  was  tempted  to  think  that  Louise 
had  not  the  power  of  loving  at  all. 
Yet,  for  his  own  part,  he  couldn't 
help   liking  her;  the   eyes  that   had 

106 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

looked  into  his  at  the  station,  haunted 
him  a  little,  and  would  not  let  him 
think  of  her  contemptuously.  But, 
what  a  woman  to  make  one's  wife! 
Unless — unless " 

Louise  had  gone  into  the  house. 
Emmeline  approached  her  husband. 

"There!  I  foresaw  it.  Isn't  it 
vexing?" 

"Never  mind,  dear.  She'll  go  to- 
morrow, or  the  day  after." 

"I  wish  I  could  be  sure  of  that." 


107 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Louise  did  not  appear  again  that 
evening.  Thoroughly  tired,  she  un- 
packed her  trunks,  sat  awhile  by  the 
open  window  listening  to  a  piano  in 
the  next  house,  and  then  jumped  into 
bed.  From  ten  o'clock  to  eight 
next  morning  she  slept  soundly. 

At  breakfast  her  behaviour  was 
marked  with  excessive  decorum. 
To  the  ordinary  civilities  of  her  host 
and  hostess  she  replied  softly,  mod- 
estly, in  the  manner  of  a  very  young 
and  timid  girl;  save  when  addressed, 
she  kept  silence,  and  sat  with 
head  inclined;  a  virginal  freshness 
breathed  about  her.  She  ate  very 
little,  and  that  without  her  usual 
gusto,  but  rather  as  if  performing  a 
dainty  ceremony.  Her  eyes  never 
moved  in  Mumford's  direction. 

io8 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

The  threatened  letter  from  Mrs. 
Higgins  had  arrived ;  Emmeline  and 
her  husband  read  it  before  their 
guest  came  down.  If  Louise  con- 
tinued to  reside  with  them,  they 
entertained  her  with  a  full  knowledge 
that  no  payments  must  be  expected 
from  Coburg  Lodge.  Emmeline 
awaited  the  disclosure  of  her  guest's 
projects,  which  had  more  than  once 
been  alluded  to  yesterday;  she  could 
not  dream  of  permitting  Louise  to 
stay  for  more  than  a  day  or  two, 
whatever  the  suggestion  offered. 
This  morning  she  had  again  heard 
from  her  sister,  Mrs.  Grove,  who 
was  strongly  of  opinion  that  Miss 
Derrick  should  be  sent  back  to  her 
native  sphere. 

"I  shall  always  feel,"  she  said  to 
her  husband,  "that  we  have  behaved 
badly.  I  was  guilty  of  false  pre- 
tences. Fortunately,  we  have  the 
excuse  of  her  unbearable  temper. 
But  for  that,  I  should  feel  dreadfully 
ashamed  of  myself." 

lOQ 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Very  soon  after  Mumford's  depart- 
ure, Louise  begged  for  a  few  min- 
utes' private  talk. 

"Every  time  I  come  into  this 
drawing-room,  Mrs.  Mumford,  I 
think  how  pretty  it  is.  What  pains 
you  must  have  taken  in  furnishing 
it.  I  never  saw  such  nice  curtains 
anywhere  else.  And  that  little 
screen — I  avi  so  fond  of  that 
screen ! ' ' 

"It  was  a  wedding  present  from 
an  old  friend,"  Emmeline  replied, 
complacently  regarding  the  object, 
which  shone  with  embroidery  of 
many  colours. 

"Will  you  help  me  when  I  furnish 
my  drawing-room?"  Louise  asked, 
sweetly.  And  she  added,  with  a 
direct  look,  "I  don't  think  it  will  be 
very  long." 

"Indeed?" 

"I  am  going  to  marry  Mr.  Bowl- 
ing." 

Emmeline  could  no  longer  feel 
astonishment  at  anything  her  guest 

no 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

said  or  did.  The  tone,  the  air,  with 
which  Louise  made  this  declaration 
affected  her  with  a  sense  of  some- 
thing quite  unforeseen;  but  at  the 
same  time  she  asked  herself  why  she 
had  not  foreseen  it.  Was  not  this 
the  obvious  answer  to  the  riddle? 
All  along,  Louise  had  wished  to 
marry  Mr.  Bowling.  vShe  might,  or 
might  not,  have  consciously  helped 
to  bring  about  the  rupture  between 
Mr.  Bowling  and  Miss  Higgins;  she 
might,  or  might  not,  have  felt  gen- 
uinely reluctant  to  take  advantage  of 
her  half-sister's  defeat.  But  a  strug- 
gle had  been  going  on  in  the  girl's 
conscience,  at  all  events.  Yes,  this 
explained  everything.  And  on  the 
whole  it  seemed  to  speak  in  Louise's 
favour.  Her  ridicule  of  Mr.  Bowl- 
ing's person  and  character  became, 
in  this  new  light,  a  proof  of  the  de- 
sire to  resist  her  inclinations.  She 
had  only  yielded  when  it  was  certain 
that  Miss  Higgins'  former  lover  had 
quite  thrown  off  his  old  allegiance, 

III 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

and  when  no  good  could  be  done  by 
self-sacrifice. 

"When  did  you  make  up  your 
mind  to  this,  Louise?" 

"Yesterday,  after  our  horrid  quar- 
rel. No,  j'ou  didn't  quarrel;  it  was 
all  my  abominable  temper.  This 
morning  I'm  going  to  answer  Mr. 
Bowling's  last  letter,  and  I  shall  tell 
him — what  I've  told  you.  He'll  be 
delighted!" 

"Then  j'ou  have  really  wished  for 
this,  from  the  first?" 

Louise  plucked  at  the  fringe  on  the 
arm  of  her  chair,  and  replied  at 
length  with  maidenly  frankness. 

"I  always  thought  it  would  be  a 
good  marriage  for  me.  But  I  never 
— do  believe  me — I  never  tried  to  cut 
Cissy  out.  The  truth  is,  I  thought  a 
good  deal  of  the  other — of  Mr.  Cobb. 
But  I  knew  that  I  couldn't  marry 
him.  It  would  be  dreadful;  we 
should  quarrel  frightfully,  and  he 
would  kill  me.  I  feel  sure  he  would, 
he's  so  violent  in  his  tempers.     But 

112 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Mr,  Bowling  is  very  nice;  he 
couldn't  get  angry  if  he  tried.  And 
he  has  such  a  much  better  position 
than  Mr.  Cobb." 

Emmeline  began  to  waver  in  her 
conviction,  and  to  feel  a  natural 
annoyance.  "And  you  think,"  she 
said  coldly,  "that  your  marriage  will 
take  place  soon?" 

"That's  what  I  want  to  speak 
about,  dear  Mrs.  Mumford.  Did 
you  hear  from  my  mother  this  morn- 
ing? Then  you  see  what  my  posi- 
tion is.  I  am  homeless.  If  I  leave 
you,  I  don't  know  where  I  shall  go. 
When  Mr.  Higgins  knows  I'm  going 
to  marry  Mr.  Bowling,  he  won't 
have  me  in  the  house,  even  if  I 
wanted  to  go  back.  Cissy  will  be 
furious;  she'll  come  back  from  Mar- 
gate just  to  keep  up  her  father's 
anger  against  me.  If  you  could  let 
me  stay  here  just  a  short  time,  Mrs, 
Mumford — just  a  few  weeks!  I 
should  so  like  to  be  married  from 
your  house." 

113 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

The  listener  trembled  with  irrita- 
tion, and  before  she  could  command 
her  voice,  Louise  added  eagerly: 

"Of  course,  when  we're  married, 
Mr.  Bowling  will  pay  all  my  debts." 

"You  are  quite  mistaken,"  said 
Emmeline,  distantly,  "if  you  think 
that  the  money  matter  has  anything 
to  do  with — with  my  unreadiness  to 


agree 


"Oh,  I  didn't  think  it— not  for  a 
moment.  I'm  a  trouble  to  you;  I 
know  I  am.  But  I'll  be  so  quiet, 
dear  Mrs.  Mumford.  You  shall 
hardly  know  I'm  in  the  house.  If 
once  it's  all  settled,  I  shall  never  be 
out  of  temper.  Do  please  let  me  stay ! 
I  like  you  so  much,  and  how  wretched 
it  would  be  if  I  had  to  be  married 
from  a  lodging  house!" 

"I'm  afraid,  Louise — I'm  really 
afraid " 

"Of  my  temper?"  the  girl  inter- 
rupted. "If  ever  I  say  an  angry 
word,  ,.you  shall  turn  me  out  that 
very  moment.     Dear  Mrs.  Mumford! 

114 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Oh,  what  shall  I  do  if  you  won't  be 
kind  to  me?  What  will  become  of 
me?  I  have  no  home — and  every- 
body hates  me " 

Tears  streamed  down  her  face; 
she  lay  back,  overcome  with  misery. 
Emmeline  was  distracted.  She  felt 
herself  powerless  to  act  as  common 
sense  dictated,  yet  desired  more  than 
ever  to  rid  herself  of  every  shadow 
of  responsibility  for  the  girl's  pro- 
ceedings. The  idea  of  this  marriage 
taking  place  at  "Runnymede"  made 
her  blood  run  cold.  No,  no;  that 
was  absolutely  out  of  the  question. 
But  equally  impossible  did  it  seem 
to  speak  with  brutal  decision.  Once 
more  she  must  temporize,  and  hope 
for  courage  on  another  day. 

"I  can't — I  really  can't  give  you  a 
definite  answer  till  I  have  spoken 
with  Mr.  Mumford." 

"Oh,  I'm  sure  he  will  do  me  this 
kindness,"  sobbed  Louise. 

A  slight  emphasis  on  the  "he" 
touched  Mrs.  Mumford  unpleasantly. 

iiT 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

She  rose,  and  began  to  pick  out 
some  over-blown  flowers  from  a  vase 
on  the  table  near  her.  Presently 
Louise  became  silent.  Before  either 
of  them  spoke  again,  a  postman's 
knock  sounded  at  the  house  door,  and 
Emmeline  went  to  see  what  letter 
had  been  delivered.  It  was  for  Miss 
Derrick;  the  handwriting,  as  Emme- 
line knew,  that  of  Mr.  Cobb. 

"Oh,  bother!"  Louise  murmured, 
as  she  took  the  letter  from  Mrs. 
Mumford's  hand.  "Well,  I'm  a 
trouble  to  everybody,  and  I  don't 
know  how  it'll  all  end.  I  dare  say  I 
shan't  live  very  long." 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  Louise!" 

"Should  you  like  me  to  go  at  once, 
Mrs.  Mumford?"  the  girl  asked, 
with  a  submissive  sigh. 

"No,  no.  Let  us  think  over  it  for 
a  day  or  two.  Perhaps  you  haven't 
quite  made  up  your  mind,  after  all." 

To  this,  oddly  enough,  Louise 
gave  no  reply.  She  lingered  by  the 
window,  nervously  bending  and  roU- 

•       ii6 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

ing  her  letter,  which  she  did  not 
seem  to  think  of  opening.  After  a 
glance  or  two  of  discreet  curiosity, 
Mrs.  Mumford  left  the  room ;  daily 
duties  called  for  attention,  and  she 
was  not  at  all  inclined  to  talk  further 
with  Louise.  The  girl,  as  soon  as 
she  found  herself  alone,  broke  Mr. 
Cobb's  envelope,  which  contained 
four  sides  of  bold  handwriting;  not 
a  long  letter,  but,  as  usual,  vigour- 
ously  worded. 

"Dear  Miss  Derrick,"  he  wrote, 
"I  haven't  been  in  a  hurry  to 
reply  to  your  last,  as  it  seemed  to 
me  that  you  were  in  one  of  your 
touchy  moods  when  you  sent  it.  It 
wasn't  my  fault  that  I  called  at  the 
house  when  you  were  away.  I  hap- 
pened to  have  business  at  Croydon, 
unexpectedly,  and  ran  over  to  Sutton 
just  on  the  chance  of  seeing  you. 
And  I  have  no  objection  to  tell  you 
all  I  said  to  your  friend  there.  I  am 
not  in  the  habit  of  saying  things  be- 
hind people's  backs  that  I  don't  wish 

i  17 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

them  to  hear.  All  I  did  was  to  ask 
out  plainly  whether  Mrs.  M.  was 
trying  to  persuade  you  to  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  me.  She  said  she 
wasn't,  and  that  she  didn't  wi.sh  to 
interfere  one  way  or  another.  I  told 
her  I  could  ask  no  more  than  that. 
She  seemed  to  me  a  sensible  sort  of 
woman,  and  I  don't  suppose  you'll 
get  much  harm  from  her,  though  I 
dare  say  she  thinks  more  about  dress 
and  amusements  and  so  on  than  is 
good  for  her,  or  any  one  else.  You 
say  at  the  end  of  your  letter  that  I'm 
to  let  you  know  when  I  think  of 
coming  again,- and  if  you  mean  by 
that  that  you  would  be  glad  to  see 
me,  I  can  only  say  thank  you.  I 
don't  mean  to  give  you  up  yet,  and 
I  don't  believe  you  want  me  to,  say 
what  you  will.  I  don't  spy  after 
you;  you're  mistaken  in  that.  But 
I'm  pretty  much  always  thinking 
about  you,  and  I  wish  you  were 
nearer  to  me.  I  may  have  to  go  to 
Bristol  in  a  week  or  two,  and  per- 

ii8 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

haps  I  shall  be  there  for  a  month  cr 
more,  so  I  must  see  you  before  then. 
Will  you  tell  me  what  clay  would  suit 
you,  after  seven?  If  you  don't  want 
me  to  come  to  the  house,  then  meet 
me  where  you  like.  And  there's 
only  one  more  thing  I  have  to  say — 
you  must  deal  honestly  with  me.  I 
can  wait,  but  I  won't  be  deceived." 

Louise  pondered  for  a  long-  time, 
turning  now  to  this  part  of  the  letter, 
now  to  that.  And  the  lines  of  her 
face,  though  they  made  no  approach 
to  smiling,  indicated  agreeable 
thought.  Tears  had  left  just  suffi- 
cient trace  to  give  her  meditations  a 
semblance  of  unwonted  seriousness. 

About  mid-day  she  went  up  to  her 
room,  and  wrote  letters.  The  first 
was  to  Miss  Cissy  Higgins. 

"Dear  Ciss,  I  dare  say  you  would 
like  to  know  that  Mr.  B.  has  proposed 
to  me.  If  you  have  any  objection, 
please  let  me  know  it  by  return. 
Affectionately  yours,  L.  E.  Derrick." 

This    she   addressed    to    Margate, 


119 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

and  stamped  with  a  little  thump 
of  the  fist.  Her  next  sheet  of  paper 
was  devoted  to  Mr.  Bowling,  and  the 
letter,  though  brief,  cost  her  some 
thought. 

"Dear  Mr.  Bowling,  your  last 
is  so  very  nice  and  kind  that  I 
feel  I  ought  to  answer  it  without  de- 
lay, but  I  cannot  answer  in  the  way 
you  wish.  I  must  have  a  long,  long 
time  to  think  over  such  a  very  im- 
portant question.  I  don't  blame 
you  in  the  least  for  your  behaviour  to 
some  one  we  know  of,  as  I  think, 
after  all  that  happened,  you  were 
quite  free.  It  is  quite  true  that  she 
did  not  behave  straightforwardly, 
and  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  to  say 
it.  I  shall  not  be  going  home 
again,  I  have  quite  made  up  my 
mind  about  that.  I  am  afraid  I 
must  not  let  you  come  here  to  call 
upon  me,  I  have  a  particular  reason 
for  it.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  my 
friend,  Mrs.  Mum  ford,  is  very  par- 
ticular, and  rather  fussy,  and  has  a 

120 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

rather  trying  temper.  So  please  do 
not  come  just  yet.  I  am  quite  well, 
and  enjoying  myself  in  a  very  quiet 
way.  I  remain,  sincerely  yours, 
Louise   E.    Derrick." 

Finally,  she  penned  a  reply  to 
Mr.  Cobb,  and  this,  after  a  glance 
at  a  railway  timetable,  gave  her  no 
trouble    at   all. 

"Dear  Mr.  Cobb,"  she  scribbled, 
"if  you  really  inust  see  me  before  you 
go  away  to  Bristol,  or  wherever  it  is, 
you  had  better  meet  me  on  Saturda}' 
at  Streatham  Station,  which  is  about 
half  way  between  me  and  you.  I 
shall  come  by  the  train  from  Sutton 
which  reaches  Streatham  at  8.6. 
Yours  truly,  L.  E.  D." 

To-day  was  Thursday.  When 
Saturday  came,  the  state  of  things 
at  "Runnymede"  had  undergone  no 
change  whatever;  Emmeline  still 
waited  for  a  moment  of  courage,  and 
Mumford,  though  he  did  not  relish 
the  prospect,  began  to  think  it  more 
than    probable    that    Miss    Derrick 

121 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

would  hold  her  ground  until  her 
actual  marriage  with  Mr.  Bowling. 
Whether  that  unknown  person  would 
discharge  the  debt  his  betrothed  was 
incurring  seemed  an  altogether  un- 
certain matter.  Louise,  in  the 
meantime,  kept  quiet  as  a  mouse;  so 
strangely  quiet,  indeed,  that  Emme- 
line's  prophetic  soul  dreaded  some 
impending  disturbance,  worse  than 
any  they  had  yet  suffered. 

At  luncheon,  Louise  made  known 
that  she  would  have  to  leave  in  the 
middle  of  dinner,  to  catch  a  train; 
no  explanation  was  offered  or  asked, 
but  Emmeline,  it  being  Saturday, 
said  she  would  put  the  dinner- hour 
earlier,  to  suit  her  friend's  conveni- 
ence. Louise  smiled  pleasantly,  and 
said  how  very  kind  it  was  of  Mrs. 
Mumford. 

She  had  thus  no  difficulty  in  reach- 
ing Streatham  by  the  time  appointed. 
Unfortunately,  it  was  a  clouded  even- 
ing, and  a  spattering  of  rain  fell 
from  time  to  t'me. 


122 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"I  suppose  you'll  be  afraid  to 
walk  to  the  Common,"  said  Mr. 
Cobb,  who  stood  waiting  at  the  exit 
from  the  station,  and  showed  more 
satisfaction  in  his  countenance  when 
Louise  appeared  than  he  evinced  in 
words. 

"Oh,  I  don't  care,"  she  answered. 
"It  won't  rain  much,  and  I've 
brought  my  umbrella,  and  I've  noth- 
ing- on  that  will  take  any  harm." 

She  had,  indeed,  dressed  herself 
in  her  least  demonstrative  costume. 
Cobb  wore  the  usual  garb  of  his  leis- 
ure hours,  which  was  better  than 
that  in  which  he  had  called  the  other 
day  at  "  Runny mede."  For  some 
minutes  they  walked  toward  Streat- 
ham  Common  without  interchange 
of  a  word,  and  with  no  glance  at 
each  other.  Then  the  man  coughed, 
and  said  bluntly  that  he  was  glad 
Louise  had  come. 

"Well,  I  wanted  to  see  you,"  was 
her  answer. 

"What  about?" 

123 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  be  able  to 
stay  with  the  Mumfords.  They're 
very  nice  people,  but  they're  not 
exactly  my  sort,  and  we  don't  get  on 
very  well.     Where  had  I  better  go?" 

"Go?  Why,  home,  of  course. 
The  best  place  for  you." 

Cobb  was  prepared  for  a  hot  re- 
tort, but  it  did  not  come.  After  a 
moment's  reflection,  Louise  said, 
quietly: 

"I  can't  go  home.  I've  quarrelled 
with  them  too  badly.  You  haven't 
seen  mother  lately?  Then  I  must 
tell  you  how  things  are." 

She  did  so,  with  no  concealment, 
save  of  her  correspondence  with  Mr. 
Bowling,  and  the  not  unimportant 
statements  concerning  him  which 
she  had  made  to  Mrs.  Mumford.  In 
talking  with  Cobb,  Louise  seemed  to 
drop  a  degree  or  so  in  social  status; 
her  language  was  much  less  careful 
than  when  she  conversed  with  the 
Mumfoi:ds,  and  even  her  voice  struck 
a  note  of  less  refinement.     Decidedly 

•    124 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

she  was  more  herself — if  that  could 
be  said  of  one  who  very  rarely  made 
conscious  disguise  of  her  character- 
istics. 

"Better  stay  where  you  are,  then, 
for  the  present,"  said  Cobb,  when 
he  had  listened  attentively.  "I 
dare  say  you  can  get  along  well 
enough  with  the  people,  if  you 
try." 

"That's  all  very  well;  but  what 
about  paying  them?  I  shall  owe 
three  guineas  for  every  week  I  stop. " 

"It's  a  great  deal,  and  they  ought 
to  feed  you  very  well  for  it,"  replied 
the  other,  smiling  rather  sourly. 

"Don't  be  vulgar.  I  suppose  you 
think  I  ought  to  live  on  a  few  shil- 
lings a  week." 

"Lots  of  people  have  to.  But 
there's  no  reason  why  you  should. 
But  look  here;  why  should  yoii  be 
quarrelling  with  your  people  now 
about  that  fellow  Bowling?  You 
don't  see  him  anywhere,  do  you?" 

He  flashed  a  glance  at  her,   and 

125 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Louise    answered     with     a     defiant 
motion  of  the  head. 

"No,  I  don't.  But  they  put  the 
blame  on  me,  all  the  same.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  they  think  I'm 
trying  to  get  him." 

She  opened  her  umbrella,  for  heavy 
drops  had  begun  to  fall;  they  pattered 
on  Cobb's  hard-felt  hat,  and  Louise 
tried  to  shelter  him  as  well  as  her- 
self. 

"Never  mind  me,"  he  said.  "And 
here,  let  me  hold  that  thing  over 
you.  If  5'ou  just  put  your  arm  in 
mine,  it'll  be  easier.  That's  the 
way.  Take  two  steps  to  my  one; 
that's  it." 

Again  they  were  silent  for  a  few 
moments.  They  had  reached  the 
Common,  and  Cobb  struck  along  a 
path  most  likely  to  be  unfrequented. 
No  wind  was  blowing ;  the  rain  fell 
in  steady  spots  that  could  all  but  be 
counted,  and  the  air  grew  dark. 

"Well,  I  can  only  propose  one 
thing,"  sounded  the  masculine  voice. 

126 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"You  can  get  out  of  it  by  marrying 
me." 

Louise  gave  a  little  laugh,  rather 
timid  than  scornful.  "Yes,  I  sup- 
pose I  can.  But  it's  an  awkward 
way.  It  would  be  rather  like  using 
a  sledge-hammer  to  crack  a  nut." 

"It'll  come  sooner  or  later,"  as- 
serted Cobb,  with  genial  confidence. 

"That's  what  I  don't  like  about 
you."  Louise  withdrew  her  arm, 
petulantly.  "You  always  speak  as 
if  I  couldn't  help  myself.  Don't 
you  suppose  I  have  any  choice?" 

"Plenty,  no  doubt,"  was  the  grim 
answer. 

"Whenever  we  begin  to  quarrel, 
it's  your  fault,"  pvirsued  Miss  Der- 
rick, with  unaccustomed  moderation 
of  tone.  "I  never  knew  a  man  who 
behaved  like  you  do.  You  seem  to 
think  the  way  to  make  any  one  like 
you  is  to  bully  them.  We  should 
have  got  on  very  much  better  if  you 
had  tried  to  be  pleasant." 

"I  don't   think    we've  got    along 


127 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

badly,  all  things  considered,"  Cobb 
replied,  as  if  after  weighing  a  doubt. 
"We'd  a  good  deal  rather  be  together 
than  apart,  it  seems  to  me;  or  else, 
why  do  we  keep  meeting?  And  I 
don't  want  to  bully  anybody — least 
of  all,  you.  It's  a  way  I  have  of 
talking,  I  suppose.  You  must  judge 
a  man  by  his  actions  and  his  mean- 
ing, not  by  the  tone  of  his  voice. 
You  know  very  well  what  a  great 
deal  I  think  of  you.  Of  course,  I 
don't  like  it  when  you  begin  to  speak 
as  if  you  were  only  playing  with  me; 
nobody  would." 

"I'm  serious  enough,"  said  Louise, 
trying  to  hold  the  umbrella  over  her 
companion,  and  only  succeeding  in 
directing  moisture  down  the  back  of 
his  neck.  "And  it's  partly  through 
you  that  I've  got  into  such  difficul- 
ties." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out?" 

"If    it   wasn't  for   you,    I   should 
very  likely  marry  Mr.  Bowling." 

"Oh,    he's    asked    you,    has  he?" 

128 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

cried  Cobb,  staring  at  her.  "Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  that  before? 
Don't  let  me  stand  in  your  way.  I 
dare  say  he's  just  the  kind  of  man 
for  you.  At  all  events,  he's  like  you 
in  not  knowing  his  own  mind." 

"Go  on!  Go  on!"  Louise  ex- 
claimed, carelessly.  "There's  plenty 
of  time.     Say  all  you've  got  to  say." 

From  the  gloom  of  the  eastward  sky 
came  a  rattling  of  thunder,  like 
quick  pistol  shots.  Cobb  checked 
his  steps. 

"We  mustn't  go  any  further. 
You're  getting  wet,  and  the  rain  isn't 
likely  to  stop." 

"I  shall  not  go  back,"  Louise  an- 
swered, "until  something  has  been 
settled . "  And  she  stood  before  him, 
her  eyes  cast  down,  whilst  Cobb 
looked  at  the  darkening  sky.  "I 
want  to  know  what's  going  to  be- 
come of  me.  The  Mumfords  won't 
keep  me  much  longer,  and  I  don't 
wish  to  stay  where  I'm  not  wanted." 

"Let  us  walk  down  the  hill." 


129 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

A  flash  of  lightning  made  Louise 
start,  and  the  thunder  rattled  again. 
But  only  light  drops  were  falling. 
The  girl  stood  her  ground. 

"I  want  to  know  what  I  am  to  do. 
If  you  can't  help  me,  say  so,  and  let 
me  go  my  own  way." 

"Of  course  I  can  help  you.  That 
is,  if  you'll  be  honest  with  me.  I 
want  to  know,  first  of  all,  whether 
you've  been  encouraging  that  man 
Bowling." 

"No,  I  haven't." 

"Very  well.  I  believe  you.  And 
now  I'll  make  you  a  fair  offer. 
Marry  me  as  soon  as  I  can  make  the 
arrangements,  and  I'll  pay  all  you 
owe,  and  see  that  you  are  in  com- 
fortable lodgings  until  I've  time  to 
get  a  house.  It  could  be  done  be- 
fore I  go  to  Bristol,  and  then,  of 
course,  you  would  go  with  me." 

"You  speak,"  said  Louise,  after  a 
short  silence,  "  as  if  you  were  mak- 
ing an   agreement   with  a  servant." 

"That's    all    nonsense,    and    you 

130 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

know  it.  I've  told  you  how  I  think, 
often  enough,  in  letters,  and  I'm  not 
good  at  saying  it.  Look  here,  I 
don't  think  it's  very  wise  to  stand 
out  in  the  middle  of  the  Common  in 
a  thunder  storm.  Let  us  walk  on, 
and  I  think  I  would  put  down  your 
umbrella." 

"It  wouldn't  trouble  you  much,  if 
I  were  struck  with  lightning." 

"All  right;  take  it  so.  I  shan't 
trouble  to  contradict." 

Louise  followed  his  advice,  and 
they  began  to  walk  quickly  down  the 
slope  towards  Streatham.  Neither 
spoke  until  they  were  in  the  high 
road  again.  A  strong  wind  was 
driving  the  rain  cloud  to  other 
regions,  and  the  thunder  had  ceased ; 
there  came  a  gray  twilight ;  rows  of 
lamps  made  a  shimmering  upon  the 
wet  ways. 

"What  sort  of  a  house  would  you 
take?"  Louise  asked,  suddenly. 

"Oh,  a  decent  enough  house. 
What  kind  do  you  want?" 

131 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"Something  like  the  Mumfords'. 
It  needn't  be  quite  so  large,"  she 
added  quickly.  "But  a  house  with 
a  garden,  in  a  nice  road,  and  in  a 
respectable  part." 

"That  would  suit  me  well  enough," 
answered  Cobb,  cheerfully.  "You 
seem  to  think  I  want  to  drag  you 
down,  but  you're  very  much  mis- 
taken. I'm  doing  pretty  well,  and 
likely,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  to  do 
better.  I  don't  grudge  you  money; 
far  from  it.  All  I  want  to  know  is  that 
you'll  marry  me  for  my  own  sake." 

He  dropped  his  voice,  not  to  ex- 
press tenderness,  but  because  other 
people  were  near.  Upon  Louise, 
however,  it  had  a  pleasing  effect, 
and  she  smiled. 

"Very  well,"  she  made  answer,  in 
the  same  subdued  tone.  "Then  let 
us  settle  it  in  that  way." 

They  talked  amicably  for  the  rest 
of  the  time  that  they  spent  together. 
It  was  nearly  an  hour,  and  never 
before   had   they  succeeded   in  con- 

132 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

versing  so  long  without  a  quarrel. 
Louise  became  light-hearted  and 
mirthful;  her  companion,  though 
less  abandoned  to  the  mood  of  the 
moment,  wore  a  hopeful  counte- 
nance. Through  all  his  roughness, 
Cobb  was  distinguished  by  a  per- 
sonal delicacy  which  no  doubt  had 
impressed  Louise,  say  what  she 
might  of  pretended  fears.  At  part- 
ing, he  merely  shook  hands  with  her, 
as  always. 


133 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Glad  of  a  free  evening,  Emme- 
line,  after  dinner,  walked  round  to 
Mrs.  Fentiman's.  Louise  had  put  a 
restraint  upon  the  wonted  friendly- 
intercourse  between  the  Mumfords 
and  their  only  familiar  acquaintances 
at  Sutton;  Mrs.  Fentiman  liked  to 
talk  of  purely  domestic  matters,  and 
in  a  stranger's  presence  she  was 
never  at  ease.  Coming  alone,  and 
when  the  children  were  all  safe  in 
bed,  Emmeline  had  a  warm  welcome. 
For  the  first  time,  she  spoke  of  her 
troublesome  guest  without  reserve. 
This  chat  would  have  been  restful 
and  enjoyable  but  for  a  most  unfor- 
tunate remark  that  fell  from  the 
elder  lady,  a  perfectly  innocent 
mention  of  something  her  husband 
had  told  her,  but  secretly  so  disturb- 


134 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

ing  to  Mrs.  Mumford  that,  aftei- 
hearing  it,  she  got  away  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  walked  quickly  home 
with  dark  countenance. 

It  was  ten  o'clock;  Louise  had  not 
yet  returned,  but  might  do  so  any 
moment.  Wishing  to  be  sure  of  pri- 
vacy in  a  conversation  with  her  hus- 
band, Emmeline  summoned  him 
from  his  book  to  the  bedroom. 

"Well,  what  has  happened  now?" 
exclaimed  Mumford.  "If  this  kind 
of  thing  goes  on  much  longer,  I  shall 
feel  inclined  to  take  a  lodging  in 
town." 

"I  have  heard  something  very 
strange.  I  can  hardly  believe  it; 
there  must  have  been  a  mistake." 

"What  is  it?  Really,  one's 
nerves " 

"Is  it  true  that,  on  Thursday 
evening,  you  and  Miss  Derrick  were 
.seen  talking  together  at  the  station  ? 
Thursday;  the  day  she  went  off,  and 
came  back  again  after  dinner." 

Mumford  would  gladly  have   got 

135 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

out  of  this  scrape  at  any  expense  of 
mendacity,  but  he  saw  at  once  how 
useless  such  an  effort  would  prove. 
Exasperated  by  the  result  of  his  in- 
discretion, and  resenting,  as  all  men 
do,  the  undignified  necessity  of  de- 
fending himself,  he  flew  into  a  rage. 
Yes,  it  icas  true,  and  what  next? 
The  girl  had  waylaid  him,  begged 
him  to  intercede  for  her  with  his 
wife.  Of  course,  it  would  have  been 
better  to  come  home  and  reveal  the 
matter;  he  didn't  do  so,  because  it 
seemed  to  put  him  in  a  silly  position. 
For  heaven's  sake,  let  the  whole  ab- 
surd business  be  forgotten  and  done 
with! 

Emmeline,  though  not  sufficiently 
enlightened  to  be  above  small  jeal- 
ousies, would  have  been  ashamed  to 
declare  her  feeling  with  the  energy 
of  unsophisticated  female  nature. 
She  replied  coldly  and  loftily  that 
the  matter  of  course  zuas  done  with; 
that  it  interested  her  no  more;  but 
that  she  could  not  help  regretting  an 

136 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

instance  of  secretiveness  such  as  she 
had  never  before  discovered  in  her 
husband.  Surely  he  had  put  him- 
self into  a  much  sillier  position,  as 
things  turned  out,  than  if  he  had 
followed  the  dictates  of  honour. 

"The  upshot  of  it  is  this, "  cried 
Mumford.  "Miss  Derrick  has  to 
leave  the  house,  and,  if  necessary,  I 
shall  tell  her  so  myself." 

Again  Emmeline  was  cold  and 
lofty.  There  was  no  necessity 
whatever  for  any  further  communi- 
cation between  Clarence  and  Miss 
Derrick.  Let  the  affair  be  left  en- 
tirely in  her  hands.  Indeed,  she 
must  very  specially  request  that 
Clarence  would  have  nothing  more 
to  do  with  Miss  Derrick's  business. 
Whereupon  Mumford  took  offence. 
Did  Emmeline  wish  to  imply  that 
there  had  been  anything  improper 
in  his  behaviour,  oeyond  the  paltry 
indiscretion  to  which  he  had  con- 
fessed? No;  Emmeline  was  thank- 
ful  to   say  that  she  did  not  harbour 

137 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

base  suspicions.  Then,  rejoined 
Mumford,  let  this  be  the  last  word  of 
a  difference  as  hateful  to  him  as  to 
her.     And  he  left  the  room. 

His  wife  did  not  linger  more  than 
a  minute  behind  him,  and  she  sat  in 
the  drawing-room  to  await  Miss 
Derrick's  return;  Mumford  kept 
apart  in  what  was  called  the  library. 
To  her  credit,  Emmeline  tried  hard 
to  believe  that  she  had  learnt  the 
whole  truth;  her  mind,  as  she  had 
justly  declared,  was  not  prone  to 
ignoble  imaginings;  but  acquitting 
her  husband  by  no  means  involved 
an  equal  charity  towards  Louise, 
Hitherto  imcertain  in  her  judgment, 
she  had  now  the  relief  of  an  assur- 
ance that  Miss  Derrick  was  not  at 
all  a  proper  person  to  entertain  as  a 
guest,  on  whatever  terms.  The  in- 
cident of  the  railway  station  proved 
her  to  be  utterly  lacking  in  self-re- 
spect, in  genuine  modesty,  even  if 
her  behaviour  merited  no  darker  de- 
scription.      Emmeline     could     now 

•         138 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

face  with  confidence  the  scene  from 
which  she  had  shrunk;  not  only  was 
it  a  duty  to  insist  upon  Miss  Der- 
rick's departure,  it  would  be  a  posi- 
tive pleasure. 

Louise    very   soon   entered ;    she 
came  into  the  room  with  her  bright- 
est look,  and  cried  gaily: 

"Oh,  I  hope  I  haven't  kept  you 
waiting  for  me.     Are  you  alone?" 

"No.     I  have  been  out. " 

"Had  you  the  storm  here?  I'm 
not  going  to  keep  you  talking;  you 
look  tired." 

"I  am,  rather,"  said  Emmeline, 
with  reserve.  She  had  no  intention 
of  allowing  Louise  to  suspect  the  real 
cause  of  what  she  was  about  to  say; 
that  would  have  seemed  to  her  un- 
dignified; but  she  could  not  speak 
quite  naturall3^  "Still,  I  should  be 
glad  if  you  would  sit  down  for  a 
minute." 

The  girl  took  a  chair,  and  began 
to  draw  off  her  gloves.  She  under- 
stood what  was  coming;  it  appeared 

139 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

in  Emmeline's  face.  "Something  to 
say   to    nie,  Mrs.  Mumford?" 

"I  hope  you  won't  think  me  un- 
kind. I  feel  obliged  to  ask  you 
when  you  will  be  able  to  make  new 
arrangements." 

•'You  would  like  me  to  go  very 
soon?"  said  Louise,  inspecting  her 
finger-nails,  and  speaking  without 
irritation. 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  think  it 
better  you  should  leave  us.  Forgive 
this  plain  speaking,  Miss  Derrick. 
It's  always  best  to  be  perfectly 
straightforward,  isn't  it?" 

Whether  she  felt  the  force  of  this 
innuendo  or  not,  Louise  took  it  in 
good  part.  As  if  the  idea  had  only 
just  struck  her,  she  looked  up  cheer- 
fully. 

"You're  quite  right,  Mrs.  Mum- 
ford.  I'm  sure  you've  been  very 
kind  to  me,  and  I've  had  a  very 
pleasant  time  here,  but  it  wouldn't 
do  for  me  to  stay  longer.  May  I 
wait  over  to-morrow,  just  till  Wed- 

140 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

nesday  morning,  to  have  an  answer 
to  a  letter?" 

"Certainly,  if  it  is  quite  under- 
stood that  there  will  be  no  delay  be- 
yond that.  There  are  circumstances 
— private  matters — I  don't  feel  quite 
able  to  explain.  But  I  must  be  sure 
that  you  will  have  left  us  by  Wed- 
nesday afternoon." 

"You  may  be  quite  sure  of  it.  I 
will  write  a  line  and  post  it  to-night, 
for  it  to  go  as  soon  as  possible." 

Therewith  Louise  stood  up,  and, 
smiling,  withdrew.  Emmeline  was 
both  relieved  and  surprised;  she 
had  not  thought  it  possible  for  the 
girl  to  conduct  herself  at  such  a 
juncture  with  such  perfect  propriety. 
An  outbreak  of  ill-temper,  perhaps 
of  insolence,  had  seemed  more  than 
likely;  at  best  she  looked  for  tears 
and  entreaties.  Well,  it  was  over, 
and  by  Wednesday  the  house  would 
be  restored  to  its  ancient  calm. 
Ancient,  indeed:  one  could  not  be- 
lieve that  so  short  a  time  had  passed 

141 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

since  Miss  Derrick  first  entered  the 
portals.     Only  one  more  day. 

"Oh,  blindness  to  the  future, 
kindly  given — that  each  may  fill  the 
circle  marked  by  Heaven."  At 
school,  Emmeline  had  learnt  and  re- 
cited these  lines;  but  it  was  long 
since  they  had  recurred  to  her 
memory. 

In  ten  minutes,  Louise  had  written 
her  letter.  She  went  out,  returned, 
and  looked  in  at  the  drawing-room 
door  with  a  pleasant  smile.  "Good- 
night, Mrs.  Mumford."  "Good- 
night, Miss  Derrick."  For  the  grace 
of  the  thing,  Emmeline  would  have 
liked  to  say  "Louise,"  but  could 
not  bring  her  lips  to  utter  the  name. 

About  a  year  ago  there  had  been  a 
little  misunderstanding  between  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Mumford,  which  lasted  for 
some  twenty- four  hours,  during 
which  they  had  nothing  to  say  to 
each  other.  To-night  they  found 
themselves  in  a  similar  situation,  and 
remembered     that     last    difference, 

142 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

and  wondered,  both  of  them,  at  the 
harmony  of  their  married  life.  It 
was  in  truth  wonderful  enough; 
twelve  months  without  a  shadow  of 
ill-feeling  between  them.  The  re- 
flection compelled  Mumford  to 
speak,  when  his  head  was  on  the 
pillow. 

"Emmy,  we're  making  fools  of 
ourselves.  Just  tell  me  what  you 
have  done." 

'*I  can't  see  how  /  am  guilty  of 
foolishness,"  was  the  clear-cut  reply. 

"Then  why  are  you  angry  with 
me?  ' 

"I  don't  like  deceit." 

"Hanged  if  I  don't  dislike  it  just 
as  much.     When  is  that  girl  going?" 

Emmeline  made  known  the  under- 
standing at  which  she  had  arrived, 
and  her  husband  breathed  an  ex- 
clamation of  profound  thankfulness. 
But  peace  was  not  perfectly  restored. 

In  another  room,  Louise  lay  com- 
muning with  her  thoughts,  which 
were   not  at  all  disagreeable.      She 

143 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

had  written  to  Cobb,  telling  him 
what  had  happened,  and  asking  him 
to  let  her  know  by  Wednesday  morn- 
ing what  she  was  to  do.  She  could 
not  go  home;  he  must  not  bid  her  do 
so;  but  she  would  take  a  lodging 
wherever  he  liked.  The  position 
seemed  to  her  romantic  and  enjoy- 
able. Not  till  after  her  actual  mar- 
riage should  the  people  at  home 
know  what  had  become  of  her.  She 
was  marrying  with  utter  disregard 
of  all  her  dearest  ambitions;  all  the 
same,  she  had  rather  be  the  wife  of 
Cobb  than  of  any  one  else.  Her 
stepfather  might  recover  his  old 
kindness  and  generosity  as  soon  as 
he  knew  that  she  no  longer  stood  in 
Cissy's  way,  and  that  she  had  never 
really  seriously  thought  of  marrying 
Mr.  Bowling.  Had  she  not  thought 
of  it?  The  question  did  not  enter 
her  own  mind,  and  she  would  have 
been  quite  incapable  of  passing  a 
satisfactory  cross-examination  on  the 
subject. 

144 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Mrs.  Mumford,  foreseeing-  the 
difficulty  of  spending  the  next  day 
at  home,  told  her  husband  in  the 
morning  that  she  would  have  early 
luncheon,  and  go  to  see  Mrs.  Grove. 

"And  I  should  like  you  to  fetch 
me  from  there,  after  business, 
please." 

"I  will,"  answered  Clarence,  read- 
ily. He  mentally  added  a  hope  that 
his  wife  did  not  mean  to  supervise 
him  henceforth  and  forever.  If  so, 
their  troubles  were  only  begin- 
ning. 

At  breakfast,  Louise  continued  to 
be  discretion  itself.  She  talked  of 
her  departure  on  the  morrow  as 
though  it  had  long  been  a  settled 
thing,  and  was  quite  unconnected 
with  disagreeable  circumstances. 
Only  mid-way  in  the  morning  did 
Mrs.  Mumford,  who  had  been  busy 
with  her  child,  speak  of  the  early 
luncheon  and  her  journey  to  town. 
She  hoped  Miss  Derrick  would  not 
mind  being  left  alone. 

145 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"Oh,  don't  speak  of  it,"  answered 
Louise.     "I  have  lots  to  do.     You'll 
give    my    kind    regards     to     Mrs. 
Grove?" 

So  they  ate  together  at  mid-day, 
rather  silently,  but  with  faces  com- 
posed. And  Emmeline,  after  a  last 
look  into  the  nursery,  hastened  away 
to  catch  her  train.  She  had  no  mis- 
givings; during  her  absence,  all 
would  be  well  as  ever. 

Louise  passed  the  time  without 
difficulty,  and  at  seven  o'clock  made 
an  excellent  dinner.  This  evening 
no  reply  could  be  expected  from 
Cobb,  as  he  was  not  likely  to  have 
received  her  letter  of  last  night  till 
his  return  home  from  business. 
Still,  there  might  be  something 
from  some  one;  she  always  looked 
eagerly  for  the  postman. 

The  weather  was  gloomy.  Not 
long  after  eight,  the  housemaid 
brought  in  a  lighted  lamp,  and  set 
it,  as  usual,  upon  the  little  black 
four-legged   table    in   the    drawing- 

146 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

room.  And  in  the  same  moment 
the  knocker  of  the  front  door  sounded 
a  vigorous  rat-tat-tat,  a  visitor's 
summons. 


147 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"It  may  be  some  one  calling  upon 
me,"  said  Louise  to  the  servant. 
"Let  me  know  the  name  before  you 
show  any  one  in." 

"Of  course,  miss,"  replied  the 
domestic,  with  pert  familiarity,  and 
took  her  time  in  arranging  the  shade 
of  the  lamp.  When  she  returned 
from  the  door,  it  was  to  announce, 
smilingly,  that  Mr.  Cobb  wished  to 
see  Miss  Derrick. 

"Please  to  show  him  in." 

Louise  stood  in  an  attitude  of  joy- 
ous excitement,  her  eyes  sparkling. 
But  at  the  first  glance  she  perceived 
that  her  lover's  mood  was  by  no 
means  correspondingly  gay.  Cobb 
stalked  forward,  and  kept  a  stern 
gaze  upon  her,  but  said  nothing. 

"Well?  You  got  my  letter,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

148 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"What  letter?" 

He  had  not  been  home  since 
breakfast  time,  so  Louise's  appeal  to 
him  for  advice  lay  waiting'  his  ar- 
rival. Impatiently,  she  described 
the  course  of  events.  As  soon  as  she 
had  finished,  Cobb  threw  his  hat 
aside,  and  addressed  her  harshly. 

"I  want  to  know  what  you  mean 
by  writing  to  your  sister  that  you 
are  going  to  marry  Bowling.  I  saw 
your  mother  this  morning,  and  that's 
what  she  told  me.  It  must  have 
been  only  a  day  or  two  ago  that  you 
said  that.  Just  explain,  if  you 
please.  I'm  about  sick  of  this  kind 
of  thing,  and  I'll  have  the  truth  out 
of  you." 

His  anger  had  never  taken  such  a 
form  as  this;  for  the  first  time, 
Louise  did  in  truth  feel  afraid  of 
him.  She  shrank  away;  her  heart 
throbbed,  and  her  tongue  refused  its 
office. 

"Say  what  you  mean  by  it!"  Cobb 
repeated,  in  a  voice  that  was  all  the 

149 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

more  alarming  because  he  kept  it 
low.  "Did  you  write  that  to  your 
sister?" 

"Yes,  but  I  never  meant  it — it 
was  just  to  make  her  angry " 

"You  expect  me  to  believe  that? 
And,  if  it's  true,  doesn't  it  make  you 
out  a  nice  sort  of  girl?  But  I  don't 
believe  it.  You've  been  thinking  of 
him  in  that  way  all  along;  and 
you've  been  writing  to  him,  or  meet- 
ing him,  since  you  came  here. 
What  sort  of  behaviour  do  you  call 
this?" 

Louise  was  recovering  self-posses- 
sion; the  irritability  of  her  own 
temper  began  to  support  her  courage. 

"What  if  I  have?  I'd  never  given 
j/ou  any  promise,  till  last  night,  had 
I  ?  I  was  free  to  marry  any  one  I 
liked,  wasn't  I?  What  do  }fou  mean 
by  coming  here  and  going  on  like 
this?  I've  told  you  the  truth  about 
that  letter,  and  I've  always  told  you 
the  truth  about  everything.  If  you 
don't  like  it,  say  so,  and  go!" 

150 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Cobb  was  impressed  by  the  energy 
of  her  defence.  He  looked  her 
strait^ht  in  the  eyes,  and  paused  a 
moment;  then  spoke  less  violently. 

"You  haven't  told  me  the  whole 
truth.  I  want  to  know  when  vou 
saw  Bowling  last." 

"I  haven't  seen  him  since  I  left 
home." 

"When  did  you  write  to  him  last?" 

"The  same  day  I  wrote  to  Cissy. 
And  I  shall  answer  no  more  ques- 
tions." 

"Of  course  not.  But  that's  quite 
enough.  You've  been  playing  a 
double  game;  if  you  haven't  told 
lies,  you've  acted  them.  What  sort 
of  a  wife  would  you  make?  How 
could  I  ever  believe  a  word  vou  said  ? 
I  shall  have  no  more  to  do  with  vou." 

He  turned  away,  and,  in  the  vio- 
lence of  his  movement,  knocked  over 
a  little  toy  chair,  one  of  those  per- 
fectly useless,  and  no  less  ugly,  im- 
pediments which  stand  about  the 
floor   of    a   well-furnished   drawing- 

151 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

room.  Too  angry  to  stoop  and  set 
the  object  on  its  legs  again,  he  strode 
towards  the  door.  Louise  followed 
him. 

"You  are  going?"  she  asked,  in  a 
struggling  voice. 

Cobb  paid  no  attention,  and  all 
but  reached  the  door.  She  laid  a 
hand  upon  him. 

"You  are  going?" 

The  touch  and  the  voice  checked 
him.  Again  he  turned  abruptly, 
and  seized  the  hand  that  rested  upon 
his  arm. 

'  'Why  are  you  stopping  me  ?  What 
do  you  want  with  me?  I'm  to  help 
you  out  of  the  fire  you've  got  into, 
is  that  it?  I'm  to  find  you  a  lodging, 
and  take  no  end  of  trouble,  and  then 
in  a  week's  time  get  a  letter  to  say 
that  you  want  nothing  more  to  do 
with  me." 

Louise  was  pale  with  anger  and 
fear  and  as  many  other  emotions  as 
her  little  heart  and  brain  could  well 
hold.     She  did  not  look  her  best;  far 

152 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

from  it;  but  the  man  saw  something 
in  her  eyes  which  threw  a  fresh  spell 
upon  him.  Still  grasping  her  one 
hand,  he  caught  her  by  the  other  arm, 
held  her  as  far  from  him  as  he 
could,  and  glared  passionately  as  he 
spoke. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"You  know — I've  told  you  the 
truth " 

His  grasp  hurt  her;  she  tried  to  re- 
lease herself,  and  moved  backwards. 
For  a  moment  Cobb  left  her  free; 
she  moved  backward  again,  her  eyes 
drawing  him  on.  She  felt  her 
power,  and  could  not  be  content  with 
thus  much  exercise  of  it. 

"You  may  go  if  you  like.  But 
you  understand,  if  you  do " 

Cobb,  inflamed  with  desire  and 
jealousy,  made  an  effort  to  recapture 
her.  Louise  sprang  away  from  him ; 
but  immediately  behind  her  lay  the 
foolish  little  chair  which  he  had 
kicked  over,  and  just  beyond  that 
stood  the  scarcely  less  foolish  little 

153 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

table  which  supported  the  heavy 
lamp,  with  its  bowl  of  coloured  glass, 
and  its  spreading  yellow  shade.  She 
tottered  back,  fell  with  all  her  might 
against  the  table,  and  brought  the 
lamp  crashing  to  the  floor.  A  shriek 
of  terror  from  Louise,  from  her  lover 
a  shout  of  alarm,  blended  with  the 
sound  of  breaking  glass.  In  an  in- 
stant a  great  flame  shot  up  half  way 
to  the  ceiling.  The  lamp-shade 
was  ablaze;  the  much-embroidered 
screen,  Mrs.  Mumford's  wedding 
present,  forthwith  caught  fire  from  a 
burning  tongue  that  ran  along  the 
carpet;  and  Louise's  dress,  well 
sprinkled  with  parafifin,  aided  the 
conflagration.  Cobb,  of  course,  saw 
only  the  danger  to  the  girl.  He 
seized  the  woollen  hearthrug,  and 
tried  to  wrap  it  about  her;  but  with 
screams  of  pain  and  frantic  struggles, 
Louise  did  her  best  to  thwart  his 
purpose. 

The  window  was  open,  and  now  a 
servant,  rushing  in  to  see  what  the 

154 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

uproar  meant,  gave  the  blaze  every 
benefit  of  draughts. 

"Bring  water!"  roared  Cobb,  who 
had  just  succeeded  in  extinguishing 
Louise's  dress,  and  was  carrying  her, 
still  despite  her  struggles,  out  of  the 
room.  "Here,  one  of  you  take  Miss 
Derrick  to  the  next  house.  Bring 
water,  you!" 

All  three  servants  were  scamper- 
ing and  screeching  about  the  hall. 
Cobb  caught  hold  of  one  of  them, 
and  all  but  twisted  her  arm  out  of 
its  socket;  at  his  fierce  command,  the 
women  supported  Louise  into  the 
garden,  and  thence,  after  a  minute 
or  two  of  faintness  on  the  sufferer's 
part,  led  her  to  the  gate  of  the  neigh- 
bouring house.  The  people  who  lived 
there  chanced  to  be  taking  the  air 
on  their  front  lawn;  without  delay 
Louise  was  conveyed  beneath  the 
roof,  and  her  host,  a  man  of  energy, 
sped  toward  the  fire  to  be  of  what 
assistance  he  could. 

The  lamp-shade,    the   screen,   the 

155 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

little  table  and  the  diminutive  chair 
blazed  gallantly,  and  with  such  a 
volleying  of  poisonous  fumes  that 
Cobb  could  scarce  hold  his  ground  to 
do  battle.  Louise  out  of  the  way, 
he  at  once  became  cool  and  resource- 
ful. Before  a  flame  could  reach  the 
windows,  he  had  rent  down  the  flimsy 
curtains  and  flung  them  outside. 
Bellowing  for  the  water  which  was 
so  long  in  coming,  he  used  the 
hearthrug  to  some  purpose  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  bonfire,  but  had  to 
keep  falling  back  for  fresh  air.  Then 
appeared  a  pail  and  a  can,  which  he 
emptied  effectually,  and  next  mo- 
ment sounded  the  voice  of  the 
gentleman  from  next  door. 

"Have  you  a  garden  hose?  Set 
it  on  to  the  tap,  and  bring  it  in  here. " 

The  hose  was  brought  into  play, 
and  in  no  great  time  the  flame  had 
flickered  out  amid  a  deluge.  When 
all  danger  was  at  an  end,  one  of  the 
servants,    the   nurse-girl,    uttered    a 


156 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

sudden  shriek;  it  merely  signified 
that  she  had  now  thought  for  the 
first  time  of  the  little  child  asleep 
upstairs.  Aided  by  the  housemaid, 
she  rushed  to  the  nursery,  snatched 
her  charge  from  bed,  and  carried  the 
unhappy  youngster  into  the  breezes 
of  the  night,  where  he  screamed  at 
the  top  of  his  gamuts. 

Cobb,  when  he  no  longer  felt  that 
the  house  would  be  burnt,  hurried  to 
inquire  after  Louise.  She  lay  on  a 
couch,  wrapped  in  a  dressing-gown; 
for  the  side  and  one  sleeve  of  her 
dress  had  been  all  but  burnt  away. 
Her  moaning  never  ceased ;  there  was 
a  fire-mark  on  the  lower  part  of  her 
face,  and  she  stared  with  eyes  of 
terror  and  anguish  at  whoever  ap- 
proached her.  Already  a  doctor  had 
been  sent  for.  Cobb,  reporting  that 
all  was  safe  at ' '  Runny mede, ' '  wished 
to  remove  her  at  once  to  her  own 
bedroom,  and  the  strangers  were 
eager  to  assist. 


157 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"What  will  the  Mumfords  say?" 
Louise  cried  of  a  sudden,  trying  to 
raise  herself. 

"Leave  all  that  to  me,"  Cobb  re- 
plied, reassuringly.  "I'll  make  it 
all  right;  don't  trouble  yourself." 

The  nervous  shock  had  made  her 
powerless;  they  carried  her  in  a 
chair  back  to  "Runnymede, "  and 
upstairs  to  her  bedroom.  Scarcely 
was  tliis  done,  when  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Mumford,  after  a  leisurely  walk  from 
the  station,  approached  their  garden 
gate.  The  sight  of  a  little  crowd  of 
people  in  the  quiet  road,  the  smell 
of  burning,  loud  noises  of  excited 
servants,  caused  them  to  run  forward 
in  alarm  ;  Emmeline,  frenzied  by  the 
certainty  that  her  own  house  was  on 
fire,  began  to  cry  aloud  for  her  child, 
and  Mumford  rushed  like  a  madman 
through  the  garden. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  a  man  who 
stood  in  the  doorway.  "You  Mr. 
Mumford?  It's  all  right.  There's 
been  a  fire,  but  we've  got  it  out." 

15S 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Emmeline  learnt  at  the  same 
moment  that  her  child  had  suffered 
no  harm,  but  she  would  not  pause 
until  she  saw  the  little  one  and  held 
him  in  her  embrace.  Meanwhile, 
Cobb  and  Mumford  talked  in  the  de- 
vastated drawing-room,  which  was 
illumined  with  candles. 

"It's  a  bad  job,  Mr.  Mumford. 
My  name  is  Cobb;  I  dare  say  you've 
heard  of  me.  I  came  to  see  Miss 
Derrick,  and  I  was  clumsy  enough 
to  knock  the  lamp  over." 

"Knock  the  lamp  over!  How 
could  you  do  that?  Were  you 
drunk?" 

"No,  but  you  may  well  ask  the 
question.  I  stumbled  over  some- 
thing— a  little  chair,  I  think — and 
fell  against  the  table  with  the  lamp 
on  it" 

"Where's  Miss  Derrick?" 

"Upstairs.  She  got  rather  badly 
burnt,  I'm  afraid.  We've  sent  for  a 
doctor." 

"And  here   I   am,"  spoke  a  voice 

159 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

behind  them.      "Sorry  to  see  this, 
Mr.  Mumford." 

The  two  went  upstairs  together, 
and  on  the  first  landing  encountered 
Emmeline,  sobbing  and  wailing 
hysterically,  with  the  child  in  her 
arms.  Her  husband  spoke  sooth- 
ingly. 

"Don't,  don't,  Emmy.  Here's  Dr. 
Billings  come  to  see  Miss  Derrick. 
She's  the  only  one  that  has  been 
burnt.  Go  down,  there's  a  good 
girl,  and  send  somebody  to  help  in 
Miss  Derrick's  room;  you  can't  be 
any  use  j^ourself  just  now." 

"But  how  did  it  happen?  Oh, 
Jiow  did  it  happen?" 

"I'll  come  and  tell  you  all  about 
it.  Better  put  boy  to  bed  again, 
hadn't  you?" 

When  she  recovered  her  senses, 
Emmeline  took  this  advice,  and, 
leaving  the  nurse  by  the  child's  cot, 
went  down  to  survey  the  ruin  of  her 
property.  It  was  a  sorry  sight. 
Where  she  had  left  a  reception-room 

,  i6o 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

such  as  any  suburban  lady  in  moder- 
ate circumstances  might  be  proud  of, 
she  now  beheld  a  mere  mass  of  un- 
recognizable furniture,  heaped  en 
what  had  once  been  a  carpet,  amid 
dripping  walls  and  under  a  grimed 
ceiling. 

"Oh!  Oh!"  She  almost  sank 
before  the  horror  of  the  spectacle. 
Then,  in  a  voice  of  fierce  conviction: 
"She  did  it!  She  did  it!  It  was 
because  I  told  her  to  leave.  I  know 
she  did  it  on  purpose!" 

Mumford  closed  the  door  of  the 
room,  shutting  out  Cobb  and  the 
cook  and  the  housemaid.  He  re- 
peated the  story  Cobb  had  told  him, 
and  quietly  urged  the  improbability 
of  his  wife's  explanation.  Miss 
Derrick,  he  pointed  out,  was  lying 
prostrate  from  severe  burns;  the  fire 
must  have  been  accidental,  but  the 
accident,  to  be  sure,  was  extraordi- 
nary enough.  Thereupon  Mrs. 
Mumford 's  wrath  burned  against 
Cobb.      What   business  had  such  a 

i6i 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

man  —  a  low-class  savage  —  in  her 
drawing-room  ?  He  must  have  come 
knowing  that  she  and  her  husband 
were  away  for  the  evening. 

"You  can  question  him  if  you 
like,"  said  Mumford.  "He's  out 
there." 

Emmeline  opened  the  door,  and  at 
once  heard  a  cry  of  pain  from  up- 
stairs. Mumford,  also  hearing  it, 
and  seeing  Cobb's  misery-stricken 
face  by  the  light  of  the  hall  lamp, 
whispered  to  his  wife: 

"Hadn't  you  better  go  up,  dear? 
Dr.  Billings  may  think  it  strange." 

It  was  much  wiser  to  urge  this 
consideration  than  to  make  a  direct 
plea  for  mercy.  Emmeline  did  not 
care  to  have  it  reported  that  selfish 
distress  made  her  indifferent  to  the 
sufferings  of  a  friend  staying  in  her 
house.  But  she  could  not  pass 
Cobb  without  addressing  him 
severely. 

"So  you  are  the  cause  of  this?" 

"I  am,  Mrs.  Mumford,  and   I  can 

162 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

only  say  that  I'll  do  my  best  to  make 
good  the  damage  to  your  house." 

"Make  good!  I  fancy  you  have 
strange  ideas  of  the  value  of  the 
property  destroyed." 

Insolence  was  no  characteristic  of 
Mrs.  Mumford.  But  calamity  had 
put  her  beside  herself;  she  spoke, 
not  in  her  own  person,  but  as  a 
woman  whose  carpets,  curtains  and 
bric-a-brac  have  ignominiously  per- 
ished. 

"I'll  make  it  good,"  Cobb  re- 
peated, humbly,  "however  long  it 
takes  me.  And  don't  be  angry  with 
that  poor  girl,  Mrs.  Mumford.  It 
wasn't  her  fault,  not  in  any  way. 
She  didn't  know  I  was  coming;  she 
hadn't  asked  me  to  come.  I'm  en- 
tirely to  blame." 

"You  mean  to  say  you  knocked 
over  the  table  by  accident?" 

"I  did,  indeed.  And  I  wish  I'd 
been  burnt  myself,  instead  of  her." 

He  had  suffered,  by  the  way,  no 
inconsiderable    scorching,  to  which 

l^>3 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

his  hands  would  testify  for  many  a 
week;  but  of  this  he  was  still  hardly 
aware.  Emineline,  with  a  glance  of 
uttermost  scorn,  left  him  and  as- 
cended to  the  room  where  the  doctor 
was  busy.  Free  to  behave  as  he 
thought  fit,  Mumford  beckoned  Cobb 
to  follow  him  into  the  front  garden, 
where  they  conversed  with  masculine 
calm. 

"I  shall  put  up  at  Sutton  for  the 
night,"  said  Cobb,  "and  perhaps 
you'll  let  me  call  the  first  thing  in 
the  morning  to  ask  how  vShe  gets  on. " 

"Of  course.  We'll  see  the  doctor 
when  he  comes  down.  But  I  wish  I 
could  understand  how  you  managed 
to  throw  the  lamp  down." 

"The  truth  is,"  Cobb  replied,  "we 
were  quarrelling.  I'd  heard  some- 
thing about  her  that  made  me  wild, 
and  I  came  and  behaved  like  a  fool. 
I  feel  just  now  as  if  I  could  go  and 
cut  my  throat,  that's  the  fact.  If 
anything  happens  to  her,  I  believe  I 
shall.       I    might    as    well,    in    any 

164 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

case;  she'll  never  look  at  me  again." 
"Oh,  don't  take  such  a  dark  view 
of  it." 

The  doctor  came  out,  on  his  way 
to  fetch  certain  requirements,  and 
the  two  men  walked  with  him  to  his 
house  in  the  next  road.  They  learned 
that  Louise  was  not  dangerously  in- 
jured ;  her  recovery  would  be  merely 
a  matter  of  time  and  care.  Cobb 
gave  a  description  of  the  fire,  and 
his  hearers  marvelled  that  the  results 
were  no  worse. 

"You  must  have  some  burns  too?" 
said  the  doctor,  whose  curiosity  was 
piqued  by  everything  he  saw  and 
heard  of  the  strange  occurrence.  "I 
thought  so;  those  hands  must  be 
attended  to," 

Meanwhile,  Emmeline  sat  by  the 
bedside,  and  listened  to  the  hysteri- 
cal lamentation  in  which  Louise 
gave  her  own— the  true— account  of 
the  catastrophe.  It  was  all  her  fault, 
and  upon  her  let  all  the  blame  fall.' 
She   would   humble    herself  to   Mr. 

165 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Higgins,  and  get  him  to  pay  for  the 
furniture  destroyed.  If  Mrs.  Mum- 
ford  would  but  forgive  her!  And 
so  on,  as  her  poor  body  agonized,  and 
the  blood  grew  feverish  in  her  veins. 


I66 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"Accept  it?  Certainly.  Why 
should  we  bear  the  loss,  if  he's  able 
to  make  it  good?  He  seems  to  be 
very  well  off  for  an  unmarried 
man." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mumford,  "but 
he's   just   going    to    marry,    and    it 

seems Well,    after     all,     you 

know,  he  didn't  really  cause  the 
damage.  I  should  have  felt  much 
less  scruple  if  Higgins  had  offered  to 
pay " 

"He  did  cause  the  damage,"  as- 
severated Emmeline.  "It  was  his 
gross  or  violent  behaviour.  If  you 
had  been  insured,  it  wouldn't  matter 
so  much — and  pray  let  this  be  a 
warning,  and  insure  at  once.  How- 
ever you  look  at  it,  he  ought  to 
pay." 

167 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Emmeline's  temper  had  suffered 
much  since  she  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Miss  Derrick.  Aforetime 
she  could  discuss  a  difference  of 
opinion;  now  a  hint  of  diversity 
drove  her  at  once  to  the  female 
weapon,  angry  and  iterative  asser- 
tion. Her  native  delicacy,  also, 
seemed  to  have  degenerated.  Mum- 
ford  could  onl}^  hold  his  tongue,  and 
trust  that  this  would  be  but  a  tem- 
porary obscurement  of  his  wife's 
amiable  virtues. 

Cobb  had  written  from  Bristol,  a 
w^eek  after  the  accident,  formally  re- 
questing a  statement  of  the  pecuni- 
ary loss  which  the  Mumfords  had 
suffered;  he  resolved  to  repay  them, 
and  would  do  so  if  possible  as  soon 
as  he  knew  the  sum.  Mumford  felt 
a  trifle  ashamed  to  make  the  neces- 
sary declaration;  at  the  outside, 
even  with  expenses  of  painting  and 
papering,  their  actual  damage  could 
not  be  estimated  at  more  than  forty 
pounds,  and  even  Emmeline  did  not 

i68 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

wish  to  save  appearances  by  making 
an  excessive  demand.  The  one 
costly  object  in  the  room,  the  piano, 
was  practically  uninjured,  and  sun- 
dry other  pieces  of  furniture  could 
easily  be  restored;  for  Cobb  and  his 
companion,  as  amateur  firemen,  had 
be  no  means  gone  recklessly  to  work. 
By  candle-light,  when  the  floor  was 
still  in  swamp,  things  looked  more 
desperate  than  they  proved  to  be  on 
subsequent  investigation ;  and  it  is 
wonderful  at  how  little  outlay,  in 
our  glistening  times,  a  villa  draw- 
ing-room may  be  fashionably  equip- 
ped. So  Mumford  wrote  to  his  cor- 
respondent that  only  a  few  articles 
had  absolutely  perished  ;  that  it  was 
not  his  wish  to  make  any  demand  at 
all;  but  that,  if  j\Ir.  Cobb  insisted  on 
offering  restitution,  why,  a  matter 
of  forty  pounds,  etc.,  etc.  And  in  a 
few  days  this  sum  arrived,  in  the 
form  of  a  draft  upon  respectable 
bankers. 

Of   course  the  house  was  in  griev- 

169 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

ous  disorder.  Upholsterers'  work- 
men would  have  been  bad  enough, 
but  much  worse  was  the  establish- 
ment of  Mrs.  Higgins  by  her  daugh- 
ter's bedside,  which  naturally  in- 
volved her  presence  as  a  guest  at 
table,  and  the  endurance  of  her  con- 
versation whenever  she  chose  to 
come  downstairs.  Mumford  urged 
his  wife  to  take  her  summer  holiday, 
to  go  away  with  the  child  imtil  all 
was  put  right  again  —a  phrase  which 
included  the  removal  of  Miss  Der- 
rick to  her  own  home ;  but  of  this 
Emmeline  would  not  hear.  How 
could  she  enjoy  an  hour  of  mental 
quietude  when,  for  all  she  knew, 
^Irs.  Higgins  and  the  patient  might 
be  throwing  lamps  at  each  other? 
And  her  jealousy  was  still  active, 
though  she  did  not  allow  it  to  betray 
itself  in  words.  Clarence  seemed  to 
her  quite  needlessly  anxious  in  his 
inquiries  concerning  Miss  Derrick's 
condition.  Until  that  young  lady 
had  disappeared  from  "Runnymede" 

170 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

for     ever,    Emmeline    would    keep 
matronly  watch  and  ward. 

Mrs.  Higgins  declared  at  least  a 
score  of  times  every  day  that  she 
could  7iot  understand  how  that  dread- 
ful affair  had  come  to  pass.  The 
most  complete  explanation  from 
her  daughter  availed  nothing;  she 
deemed  the  event  an  insoluble  mys- 
tery, and,  in  familiar  talk  with  Mrs. 
Mumford,  breathed  singular  charges 
against  Louise's  lover.  "She's 
shielding  him,  my  dear.  I've  no 
doubt  of  it.  I  never  had  a  very  good 
opinion  of  him,  but  now  she  shall 
never  marry  him  with  viy  consent." 
To  this  kind  of  remark  Emmeline  at 
length  deigned  no  reply.  She  grew 
to  detest  Mrs.  Higgins,  and  escaped 
her  society  by  every  possible  ma- 
noeuvre. 

"Oh,  how  pleasant  it  is,"  she  ex- 
claimed, bitterly,  to  her  husband, 
"to  think  that  everybody  in  the  road 
is  talking  about  us  with  contempt! 
Of   course  the  servants  have  spread 

171 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

nice  stories.  And  the  Wilkinsons" 
— these  were  the  people  next  door 
— "look  upon  lis  as  hardly  respect- 
able. Even  Mrs.  Fentiman  said 
yesterday  that  she  really  could  not 
conceive  how  I  came  to  take  that 
girl  into  the  house.  I  acknowledge 
that  I  must  have  been  crazy." 

"Whilst  we're  thoroughly  upset," 
replied  Mumford,  with  irritation  at 
this  purposeless  talk,  "hadn't  we 
better  leave  the  house,  and  go  to  live 
as  far  away  as  possible?" 

"Indeed,  I  very  much  wish  we 
could.  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  be 
happy  again  at  Sutton." 

And  Clarence  went  off  muttering 
to  himself  about  the  absurdity  and 
the  selfishness  of  women. 

For  a  week  or  ten  days  Louise  lay 
very  ill;  then  her  vigorous  constitu- 
tion began  to  assert  itself.  It  helped 
her  greatly  toward  convalescence 
when  she  found  that  the  scratches 
on  her  face  would  not  leave  a  per- 
manent   blemish.       Mrs.     Mumford 


172 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

came  into  the  room  one  day,  and  sat 
for  a  few  minutes,  neither  of  them 
desiring     longer    communion;     but 
they  managed  to  exchange  inquiries 
and  remarks  with  a  show  of  friend- 
liness.    When  the  forty  pounds  came 
from  Cobb,  Emmeline  made  no  men- 
tion of  it.     The  next  day,  however, 
Mrs.    Higgins    being    absent    when 
Emmeline    looked    in,  Louise    said, 
with  an  air  of  satisfaction: 

"So  he  has  paid  the  money!  I'm 
very  glad  of  that." 

"Mr.  Cobb  insisted  on  paying," 
Mrs.  Mumford  answered,  with  re- 
serve. '*We  could  not  hurt  his  feel- 
ings by  refusing." 

"Well,    that's   all   right,    isn't   it? 
You  won't  think  so  badly  of  us  now? 
Of  course  you  wish  you'd  never  set 
eyes   on   me,    Mrs.    Mumford;     but 
that's  only  natural;  in  your  place  I'm 
sure  I  should  feel  the  same.     Still, 
now  the   money's  paid,    you   won't 
always  think   unkindly  of  me,   will 
you?" 


173 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

The  girl  lay  propped  on  pillows; 
her  pale  face,  with  its  healing  scars, 
bore  witness  to  what  she  had  under- 
gone, and  one  of  her  arms  was  com- 
pletely swathed  in  bandages.  Em- 
meline  did  not  soften  towards  her, 
but  the  frank  speech,  the  rather 
pathetic  little  smile,  in  decency  de- 
manded a  suave  response. 

"I  shall  wish  you  every  happiness, 
Louise." 

"Thank  you.  We  shall  be  married 
as  soon  as  ever  I'm  well,  but  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know  where.  Mother 
hates  his  very  name,  and  does  her 
best  to  set  me  against  him ;  but  I 
just  let  her  talk.  We're  beginning 
to  quarrel  a  little — did  you  hear  us 
this  morning?  I  try  to  keep  down 
my  voice,  and  I  shan't  be  here  much 
longer,  you  know.  I  shall  go  home 
at  first;  my  stepfather  has  written  a 
kind  letter,  and  of  course  he's  glad 
to  know  I  shall  marry  Mr.  Cobb. 
But  I  don't  think  the  wedding  will 
be  there.     It  wouldn't  be  nice  to  go 

174 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

to  church  in  a  rage,  as  I'm  sure  I 
should  with  mother  and  Cissy  look- 
ing on." 

This  might,  or  might  not,  signify 
a  revival  of  the  wish  to  be  married 
from  "Runnymede. "  Emmeline 
quickly  passed  to  another  subject. 

Mrs.  Higgins  was  paying  a  visit 
to  Coburg  Lodge,  where,  during 
these  days  of  confusion,  the  master 
of  the  house  had  been  left  at  his  ser- 
vants' mercy.  On  her  return,  late 
in  the  evening,  she  entered  flurried 
and  perspiring,  and  asked  the  ser- 
vant who  admitted  her  where  Mrs. 
Mum  ford  was. 

"With    master,     in    the     library, 

ID. 

"Tell  her  I  wish  to  speak  to  her 
at  once." 

Emmeline  came  forth,  and  a  lamp 
was  lighted  in  the  dining-room,  for 
the  drawing-room  had  not  yet  been 
restored  to  a  habitable  condition. 
Silent,  and  wondering  in  gloomy  re- 
signation what  new  annoyance  was 

175 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

prepared  for  her,  Emmeline  sat  with 
eyes  averted,  whilst  the  stout  w^oman 
mopped  her  face  and  talked  discon- 
nectedly of  the  hardships  of  travel- 
ling in  such  weather  as  this;  when 
at  length  she  readied  her  point, 
Mrs.  Higgins  became  lucid  and 
emphatic. 

"I've  heard  things  as  have  made 
me  that  angry  I  can  hardly  bear  my- 
self. Would  you  believe  that  people 
are  dying  to  take  away  my  daughter's 
character?  It's  Cissy  'Iggins'  do- 
ing, I'm  sure  of  it,  though  I  haven't 
brought  it  'ome  to  her  yet.  I 
dropped  in  to  see  some  friends  of 
ours — I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you 
know  the  name,  it's  Mrs.  Jolliffe,  a 
niece  of  Mr.  Baxter — Baxter,  Lukin 
&  Co.,  you  know;  and  she  told  me  in 
confidence  what  people  are  saying — 
as  how  Louise  was  to  marry  Mr. 
Bowling,  but  he  broke  it  off  when  he 
found  the  sort  of  people  she  was 
living  with,  here  at  Sutton — and  a 
great  many  more  things  as  I  shouldn't 

1/6 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

like  to  tell  you.     Now  what  do  you 
think  of " 

Emmeline,  her  eyes  flashing,  broke 
in  angrily. 

"I  think  nothing  at  all  about  it, 
Mrs.  Higgins,  and  I  had  very  much 
rather  not  hear  the  talk  of  such 
people." 

"I  don't  wonder  it  aggravates 
you,  Mrs.  Mumford.  Did  any  one 
ever  hear  such  a  scandal!  I'm  sure 
nobody  that  knows  you  could  say  a 
word  against  your  respectability, 
and,  as  I  told  Mrs.  Jolliffe,  she's 
quite  at  liberty  to  call  here  to-mor- 
row or  the  next  day " 

"Not  to  see  me,  I  hope,"  said 
Emmeline.      "I  must  refuse " 

"Now  just  let  me  tell  you  what 
I've  thought,"  pursued  the  stout 
lady,  hardly  aware  of  this  interrup- 
'on.  "This'll  have  to  be  set  right, 
both  for  Lou's  sake  and  for  yours, 
and  to  satisfy  us  all.  They're  mak- 
ing a  mystery,  d'you  see,  of  Lou 
leaving  'ome,   and  going  ofiE  to  live 

177 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

with  strangers;  and  Cissy's  been 
doing  her  best  to  make  people  think 
there's  something  wrong — the  spite- 
ful creature.  And  there's  only  one 
way  of  setting  it  right.  As  soon  as 
Lou  can  be  dressed  and  get  down,  and 
when  the  drawing-room's  finished, 
I  want  her  to  ask  all  our  friends 
here  to  five  o'clock  tea  just  to  let  them 
see  with  their  own  eyes " 

"Mrs.  Higgins, " 

"Of  course  there'll  be  no  expense 
ior  you,  Mrs.  Mumford,  not  a  farth- 
ing. I'll  provide  everything,  and 
all  I  ask  of  you  is  just  to  sit  in  your 
own  drawing-room " 

"Mrs.  Higgins,  be  so  kind  as  to 
listen  to  me.  This  is  quite  impossi- 
ble. I  can't  dream  of  allowing  any 
such  thing." 

The  other  glared  in  astonishment, 
which  tended  to  wrath. 

"But  can't  you  see,  Mrs.  Mum- 
ford,  that  it's  for  your  own  good  as 
well  as  ours?  Do  you  want  people 
to  be  using  your  name " 

178 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"What  can  it  matter  to  me  how 
such  people  think  or  speak  of  me?" 
cried  Emmeline,  trembling  with  ex- 
asperation. 

"Such  people!  I  don't  think  you 
know  who  you're  talking  about, 
Mrs.  Mumford.  You'll  let  me  tell 
you  that  my  friends  are  as  respect- 
able as  yours " 

"I  shall  not  argue  about  it,"  said 
Emmeline,  standing  up.  "You  will 
please  to  remember  that  already  I've 
had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and  an- 
noyance, and  what  you  propose  would 
be  quite  intolerable.  Once  for 
all,  I  can't  dream  of  such  a 
thing." 

"Then  all  I  can  say  is,  Mrs.  Mum- 
ford," — the  speaker  rose  with  heavy 
dignity — "that  you're  not  behaving 
in  a  very  ladylike  way.  I'm  not  a 
quarrelsome  person,  as  you  well 
know,  and  i  don't  say  nasty  things 
if  I  can  help  it.  But  there's  one 
thing  I  must  say  and  will  say,  and 
that  is,  that  when  we  fir5t  came  here 

179 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

you  gave  a  very  different  account  of 
yourself  to  what  it's  turned  out. 
You  told  me  and  my  daughter  dis- 
tinctly that  you  had  a  great  deal  of 
the  very  best  society,  and  that  was 
what  Lou  came  here  for,  and  you 
know  it,  and  you  can't  deny  that  you 
did.  And  I  should  like  to  know  how 
much  society  's  she's  seen  all  the 
time  she's  been  here — that's  the 
question  I  ask  you.  I  don't  believe 
she's  seen  more  than  three  or  four 
people  altogether.  They  may  have 
been  respectable  enough,  and  I'm 
not  the  one  to  say  they  weren't,  but 
I  do  say  it  isn't  what  we  was  led  to 
expect,  and  that  you  can't  deny,  Mrs. 
Mumford." 

She  paused  for  breath.  Emmeline 
had  moved  towards  the  door,  and 
stood  struggling  with  the  feminine 
rage  which  compelled  her  to  undig- 
nified altercation.  To  withdraw  in 
silence  would  be  like  a  shamed  con- 
fession of  the  charge  brought  against 
her,  and  she  suffered  not  a  little  from 

1 80 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

her  consciousness  of  the  modicum  of 
truth  therein. 

"It  was  a  most  unfortunate  thing, 
Mrs.  Higgins,"  burst  from  her  lips, 
"that  I  ever  consented  to  receive 
your  daughter,  knowing  as  I  did  that 
she  wasn't  our  social  equal." 

"Wasn't  what!''  exclaimed  the 
other,  as  though  the  suggestion 
startled  her  by  its  novelty.  "You 
think  yourself  superior  to  us?  You 
did  us  a  favour " 

Whilst  Mrs.  Higgins  was  uttering 
these  words,  the  door  opened,  and 
there  entered  a  figure  which  startled 
her  into  silence.  It  was  that  of 
Louise,  in  a  dressing  gown  and  slip- 
pers, with  a  shawl  wrapped  about 
the  upper  part  of  her  body. 

"I  heard  you  quarrelling,"  she 
began.  (Her  bedroom  was  immedi- 
ately above,  and  at  this  silent  hour 
the  voices  of  the  angry  ladies  had 
been  quite  audible  to  her  as  she  lay 
in  bed).  "What /.y  it  all  about?  It's 
too  bad  of  you,  mother " 

i8i 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

•'The  idea,  Louise,  of  coining 
down  like  that!"  cried  her  parent, 
indignantly.  "How  did  you  know 
Mr.  Mumford  wasn't  here?  For 
shame!  Go  up  again  this  moment. " 
"I  don't  see  any  harm  if  Mr. 
Mumford  had  been  here,"  replied 
the  girl,  calmly. 

"I'm  sure  it's  most  unwise  of  you 
to  leave  your  bed, "  began  Emmeline, 
with  anxious  thought  for  Louise's 
health,  due  probably  to  her  dread  of 
having  the  girl  in  the  house  for  an 
indefinite  period. 

"Oh,  I've  wrapped  up.  I  feel 
shaky,  that's  all,  and  I  shall  have  to 
sit  down."  She  did  so,  on  the  near- 
est chair,  with  a  little  laugh  at  her 
strange  feebleness.  "Now  please 
don't  quarrel,  you  two.  Mrs.  Mum- 
ford, don't  mind  anything  that 
mother  says." 

Thereupon  Louise's  mother  burst 
into  a  vehement  exposition  of  the 
reasons  of  discord,  beginning  with 
the  calumnious  stories  she  had  heard 

•     182 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

at  Mrs.  Jolliffe's,  and  ending  with 
the  outrageous  arrogance  of  Mrs. 
Mumford's  latest  remark.  Louise 
listened  with  a  smile. 

"Now,  look  here,  mother,"  she 
said,  when  silence  came  for  a  mo- 
ment. "You  can't  expect  Mrs. 
Mum  ford  to  have  a  lot  of  strangers 
coming  to  the  house  just  on  my  ac- 
count. She's  sick  and  tired  of  us 
all,  and  wants  to  see  our  backs  as 
soon  as  ever  she  can.  I  don't  say  it 
to  offend  you,  Mrs.  Mumford,  but 
you  know  it's  true.  And  I  tell  you 
what  it  is.  To-morrow  morning 
I'm  going  back  home.  Yes,  I  am. 
You  can't  stay  here,  mother,  after 
this,  and  I'm  not  going  to  have  any 
one  new  to  wait  on  me.  I  shall  go 
home  in  a  cab,  straight  from  this 
house  to  the  other,  and  I'm  quite 
sure  I  shan't  take  any  harm." 

"You  won't  do  it  till  the  doctor's 
given  you  leave, "  said  Mrs.  Higgins, 
with  concern. 

"He'll  be  here  at  ten  in  the  morn- 

183 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

ing,    and    I    know   he  will   give  me 
leave.     So  there's  an  end  of  it.     And 
you  can  go  to  bed  and  sleep  in  peace 
Mrs.  Mumford." 

It  was  not  at  all  unamiably  said 
But    for    Mrs.     Higgins'     presence 
Emmeline    would    have    responded 
with  a  certain  kindness;  still  smart 
ing  under  the  stout  lady's    accusa 
tions,  which   continued   to   sound  in 
sniffs   and   snorts,    she   answered  as 
austerely  as  possible. 

"I  must  leave  you  to  judge,  Miss 
Derrick,  how  soon  you  feel  able  to 
go.  I  don't  wish  you  to  do  anything 
imprudent.  But  it  will  be  much 
better  if  Mrs.  Higgins  regards  me  as 
a  stranger  during  the  rest  of  her  stay 
here.  Any  communication  she 
wishes  to  make  to  me  must  be  made 
through  a  servant." 

Having  thus  delivered  herself, 
Emmeline  quitted  the  room.  From 
the  library,  of  which  the  door  was 
left  ajar,  she  heard  Louise  and  her 
mother   pass   up?tairs,    both    silent. 

.      184 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

Mumford,  too  well  aware  that  yet  an- 
other disturbance  had  come  upon  his 
unhappy  household,  affected  to  read, 
and  it  was  only  when  the  door  of 
Louise's  room  had  closed  that  Em- 
meline  spoke  to  him. 

"Mrs.  Higgins  will  breakfast  by 
herself  to-morrow,"  she  said,  se- 
verely. "She  may  perhaps  go  before 
lunch;  but  in  any  case,  we  shall  not 
sit  down  at  table  with  her  again." 

"All  right,"  Mumford  replied, 
studiously  refraining  from  any  hint 
of  curiosity. 

So,  next  morning,  their  breakfast 
was  served  in  the  library.  Mrs. 
Higgins  came  down  at  the  usual 
hour,  found  the  dining-room  at  her 
disposal,  and  ate  with  customary 
appetite  alone.  Had  Emmeline's 
experience  lain  among  the  more 
rigorously  vulgar  of  her  sex,  she 
would  have  marvelled  at  Mrs.  Hig- 
gins' silence  and  general  self-re- 
straint during  these  last  hours; 
Louise's     mother     might,     without 

185 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

transgressing  the  probabilities  of 
the  situation,  have  made  this  a 
fliemorable  morning  indeed.  She 
confined  herself  to  a  rather  frequent 
ringing  of  the  bedroom  bell.  Her 
requests  of  the  servant  became 
orders,  such  as  she  would  have  given 
in  a  hotel  or  lodging-house,  but  no 
distinctly  offensive  word  escaped 
her.  And  this  was  almost  entirely 
due  to  Louise's  influence;  for  the 
girl  impressed  upon  her  mother  that 
"to  make  a  row"  would  be  the  sure 
and  certain  way  of  proving  that  Mrs. 
Mumford  was  justified  in  claiming 
social  superiority  over  her  guests. 

The  doctor,  easily  perceiving  how 
matters  stood,  made  no  difficulty 
about  the  patient's  removal;  in  a 
closed  carriage,  and  with  exercise  of 
all  obvious  precautions,  she  might 
travel  as  soon  as  she  liked.  Antici- 
pating this,  Mrs.  Higgins  had  already 
packed  all  the  luggage,  and  Louise, 
as  well  as  it  could  be  managed,  had 
been  clad  for  the  journey. 

■    i86 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

"I  suppose  you'll  go  and  order  the 
cab  yourself, "  she  said  to  her  mother, 
when  they  were  alone  again. 

"Yes,  I  must;  on  account  of  mak- 
ing a  bargain  about  the  charge.  A 
nice  expense  you've  been  to  us, 
Louise.  That  man  ought  to  pay 
every  penny." 

"I'll  tell  him  you  say  so,  and  no 
doubt  he  will." 

They  wrangled  about  this  whilst 
Mrs.  Higgins  was  dressing  to  go  out. 
As  soon  as  her  mother  had  left  the 
house,  Louise  stole  downstairs,  and 
to  the  door  of  the  drawing-room, 
which  was  half  open;  Emmeline, 
her  back  turned,  stood  before  the 
fireplace,  as  if  considering  some  new 
plan  of  decoration;  she  did  not  hear 
the  girl's  light  step.  Whitewashers 
and  paper-hangers  had  done  their 
work;  anew  carpet  was  laid  down; 
but  pictures  had  still  to  be  restored 
to  their  places,  and  the  furniture 
stood  all  together  in  the  middle 
of     the     room.       Not    till     Louise 

187 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

had   entered    did    her   hostess   look 
round. 

"Mrs.  Mumford,  I  want  to  say 
good-bye." 

"Oh,  yes,"  Emmeline  answered, 
civilly,  but  without  a  smile.  "Good- 
bye, Miss  Derrick. "  And  she  stepped 
forward  to  shake  hands. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  said  the  girl, 
looking  into  her  face  good-humour- 
edly.  "You  shall  never  see  me 
again,  unless  you  wish  to." 

"I'm  sure  I  wish  you  all  happi- 
ness," was  the  embarrassed  reply. 
"And — I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  of 
your  marriage." 

"I'll  write  to  you  about  it.  But 
you  won't  talk  unkindly  about  me, 
when  I've  gone — you  and  Mr.  Mum- 
ford?" 

"No,  no;  indeed  we  shall  not." 

Louise  tried  to  say  something  else, 
but  without  success.  She  pressed 
Emmeline's  hand,  turned  quickly, 
and  disappeared.  In  half  an  hour's 
time  arrived  the  vehicle  Mrs.  Higgins 

'  i88 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

had  engaged;  without  delay,  mother 
and  daughter  left  the  house,  and  were 
driven  ofi.  Mrs.  Muinford  kept  a 
strict  retirement.  When  the  two 
had  gone,  she  learnt  from  the  house- 
maid that  their  luggage  would  be 
removed  later  in  the  day. 

A  fortnight  passed,  and  the  Mum- 
fords  once  more  lived  in  enjoyment 
of     tranquillity,    though    Emmeline 
could  not  quite  recover  her  old  self. 
They  never  spoke  of  the  dread  ex- 
periences   through   which  they  had 
gone.     Mumford's  holiday-time  ap- 
proached, and  they  were  making  ar- 
rangements for  a  visit  to  the  seaside, 
when  one  morning  a  carrier's  cart 
delivered    a    large   package,    unex- 
pected   and    of  unknown   contents. 
Emmeline  stripped  off  the  matting, 
and  found — a  drawing-room  screen, 
not  unlike  that  which  she  had  lost  in 
the  fire.      Of  course   it  came  from 
Louise,   and,    though  she   professed 
herself   very    much    annoyed,    Mrs. 
Mumford  had  no  choice  but  to  ac- 

189 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

knowledge  it  in  a  civil  little  note  ad- 
dressed to  Coburg  Lodge. 

They  were  away  from  home  for 
three  weeks.  On  returning,  Emme- 
line  found  a  letter  which  had  arrived 
for  her  the  day  before;  it  was  from 
Louise,  and  announced  her  marriage. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Mumford,  I  know 
you'll  be  glad  to  hear  it's  all  over.  It 
was  to  have  been  at  the  end  of  Octo- 
ber, when  our  house  was  ready  for 
us.  We  have  taken  a  very  nice  one  in 
Holloway.  But,  of  course,  some- 
thing happened,  and  mother  and 
Cissy  and  I  quarrelled  so  dreadfully 
that  I  went  off  and  took  a  lodging. 
And  then  Tom  said  that  we  must  be 
married  at  once,  and  so  we  were 
without  any  fuss  at  all,  and  I  think 
it  was  ever  so  much  better,  though 
some  girls  would  not  care  to  go  in 
their  plain  dress  and  without  friends 
or  anything.  After  it  was  over, 
Tom  and  I  had  just  a  little  disagree- 
ment about  something,  but,  of 
course,    he  gave  way,  and  I    don't 

'     190 


THE  PAYING  GUEST 

think  we  shall  get  on  together  at  all 
badly.  My  stepfather  has  been  very 
nice,  and  is  paying  for  all  the  furni- 
ture, and  has  promised  me  a  lot  of 
things.  Of  course  he  is  delighted 
to  have  me  out  of  the  house,  just  as 
you  were.  You  see  that  I  write 
from  Broadstairs,  where  we  are 
spending  our  honeymoon.  Please  re- 
member me  to  Mr.  Mumford,  and 
believe  me,  very  sincerely  yours, 
Louise   E.    Cobb." 

Enclosed  was  a  wedding  card. 
"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomas  Cobb,"  in 
gilt  lettering,  occupied  the  middle, 
and  across  the  right-hand  up])er  cor- 
ner ran  "Louise  E.  Derrick,"  an 
arrow  transfixing  the  maiden  sur- 
name. 


191 


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